Malfoys, Mudbloods, and Medicis
by AW Science Geek
Summary: "Admit it," he stated blandly. "You haven't been moving up in your career because you're missing something... You don't seem to understand, for instance, that politics is a game. It's chess." "I've never been very good at chess," Hermione muttered. "And I'm the grand master," Malfoy smiled crookedly. WIP, EWE, Rated M to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"Granger!" Malfoy called, rushing down the hallway.

Hermione spun around, her hair flying wildly out of its normally perfect bun.

"What, Malfoy?" she asked irritably. She really was at the end of her rope. One snide comment from the blond ferret, and she'd be flying off the handle.

"Merlin Granger, are you blind?" he asked, cheeks red from running to catch up with her.

"Blind?" she sputtered. "Blind to what?"

"Merlin, how can you possibly be so dense?" he asked, his eyes wide with astonishment.

"Care to enlighten me, oh wise Malfoy?" Hermione spat sarcastically. "What part, of that blatantly prejudiced, racist, bigoted conversation did I miss?"

"You are such a Gryffindork. Running around, brazenly battling any unjust comment or situation in all your red and gold splendour," Malfoy scoffed.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "If you're going to resort to childish house rivalry, I have things to do, Malfoy," she hissed, turning to walk away.

His arm shot out to grab her wrist. "You just don't get it, do you?"

"Get what?" she huffed angrily. "Unlike you, I don't just sit around all day picking my nose. I have things to actually work on!"

"You need to learn the art of subtlety, Granger. You made a lot of enemies in that room."

"Subtlety?" she scoffed. "Why don't you tell those prejudiced bastards to subtly shut their blood-prejudiced mouths? Those enemies were formed the moment I was born!"

"Granger, you created more!"

"What?" she spat. "If everyone in that room decided that when I actually stand up for myself when someone blatantly insults me-"

"Merlin, just listen to me for a minute, would you?" Malfoy interrupted, exasperated. "Originally, there were people in that room who were on your side, Granger." She snorted. "There were! But what did you do? You became the antagonist by starting a row with those officials. Now, they are the victims of your rage." The light was slowly dawning in her eyes.

"You acted unprofessionally and proved yourself incapable of negotiating like any qualified lawyer would do. You did not compromise, you did not appear calm or collected, and you have lost your credibility, Granger. Now, when the others have to choose between you and those 'prejudiced, racist bigots,' they will choose the latter. Because you have proven to them that you cannot act appropriately when you are personally attacked. And guess what? That's what politics is, sweetheart."

"Don't you dare call me 'sweetheart'," Hermione snapped.

"Would you rather I call you a mudblood or a nitwit?" Malfoy sneered, finally losing his patience.

"And there he is, the Malfoy I know," Hermione smirked. "I was wondering where all that animosity had gone."

"Who's the prejudiced bigot, now?" he retorted.

"Prejudiced?" Hermione laughed cynically. "No, I'm merely extrapolating on past data points," she scoffed. "If you know so much about politics, why don't you run for Minister of Magic?"

"Malfoys have spent far too much time in the public eye," he replied evenly, dismissing it with the wave of his hand.

"HAH!" she snorted. "I beg to differ. You lot have spent far too little, Merlin-knows-what your family is always up to."

"Simple," Malfoy shrugged. "We want influence in how the wizarding world is run. Don't you want the same?"

She looked up at him suddenly, as if seeing him for the first time. "Yes," Hermione said after a short pause, surprised by her sudden understanding and calmness. "I do."

"And you have to admit that you've stagnated-"

"Stagnated?" Hermione broke in, slightly offended and on her guard. "Stagnated in what way?"

"Your career," Malfoy rolled his eyes. "When's the last time you've been promoted? Two years ago?"

"So? I was being promoted ridiculously quickly before. It only make sense to have a bit of a pause now."

"Merlin, Granger, you're the war heroine darling! If I can be promoted five times in the last five years, you ought to be far, far ahead of me."

"Too bad I can't buy my way up the ladder," she snarked. She was still reeling from the fact that he appeared to be… looking out for her. Hermione didn't know what to do with this new Malfoy, treating her as if she were really a colleague rather than unworthy of even the dirt beneath his shoes.

He glared at her. Finally, a button to push. "Assuming that I even currently have the financial resources to bribe, if I had bribed my way up, I'd be a hell of a lot further than I am right now. Believe it or not, sweetheart, I can get my way without bribing. Or blackmailing. Or bullying," he added arrogantly, just to cover all of his bases.

"Don't. Call. Me. Sweetheart," Hermione bit out frustratedly.

"Admit it," he stated blandly. "You haven't been moving up in your career because you're missing something. You had to transfer over from Care of Magical Creatures to Wizengamot Administration because you realized it yourself, too. You don't seem to understand, for instance, that politics is a game. It's chess."

"I've never been very good at chess," Hermione muttered.

"And I'm the grand master," Malfoy smiled crookedly.

* * *

Hermione was tapping her toe impatiently, one of her co-workers smirking knowingly as she listened to her boss drone on and on. Did he not realize that she clearly was leaving with her bag already packed and her coat nearly on? And yet, he continued to drone. Not that this wasn't an interesting case.

"I'm sorry, but I've really got to get going," Hermione sighed frustratedly as her boss continued to pile stacks of manilla folders onto her arms. "Louis, I've never asked to leave work early before, but I have a dinner that I can't miss. Can we pick this up tomorrow?" she asked.

Louis frowned. "I would have thought that you'd be more excited to begin this property dispute case between a vampire clan and the Merionto family. It involves magical creatures, which was the primary reason we took you into this department. Expertise and 'diversity' that hasn't really been needed until now."

"I am excited," Hermione smiled. "And I really do wish I could get started now. But, unfortunately, it's going to have to wait till tomorrow. I promise I'll get started bright and early, as usual!" Hermione called over her shoulder, already depositing the files on her desk and grabbing her coat and bag.

Her heels clicked quickly as she walked down the hall, past the Auror's offices where she bumped into Harry. He noticed her slightly frazzled look, and smiled knowingly.

"Dinner date tonight?" he asked, falling into step with her as they reached the lifts.

"Yes," she smiled. "I'm really running out of time, though to get ready. Ginny would kill me! Speaking of whom, how is she?"

"Great, I think she's got a game again this Sunday. Are you planning on being there?" Harry's smile widened as he thought of his brilliant Holyhead Harpies' chaser.

"I'm definitely going to try. There's been an interesting case that I have to prepare for the Wizengamot's trial in a couple weeks, dealing with vampires, actually," Hermione grinned excitedly. "I'm sure I can spare a few hours, as I'm sure the Harpies will smash their opponents flat before their previous time record."

"You know Ginny's boss too well," Harry chuckled, stepping out of the lift into the Atrium. "Never satisfied until their previous record is broken twice over." He waved as Hermione went towards the apparition spots. "See you Sunday!"

She apparated back to her flat, eyes widening as she looked at the clock. Hermione Granger would never, ever, simply toss her blazer on a chair and her files on the ground. But that was exactly what she did, flying to her bathroom in a flurry of red lipstick, mascara, and innumerous hair products that Ginny had bought for Hermione's birthday.

These were the moments when Ginny's painstaking drilling came in handy - Hermione knew automatically where each product was without having to look while she spelled her hair into shining waves. Gone was the all-business, slightly frizzy bun for her job in the Wizengamot administration.

Half an hour later, her floo chimed, signalling his arrival. She smiled at herself in the mirror. She checked her watch, a smile brilliantly lighting up her face. Right on time.

He was never on time.

* * *

They entered the restaurant, his arm wrapped snugly around her waist as she leaned into him. She gasped as she took in her surroundings.

"Oh, this is beautiful!" Hermione smiled, the dancing fairy lights casting vibrant colors across her face. She looked up at her favorite ginger, tip-toeing to peck him on the lips. "This is just gorgeous, Ron."

Not nearly as gorgeous as you, Ron thought as he studied his girlfriend. Her wild curls had been tamed to chocolate waves, shining like the warmth in her eyes. She was wearing a curve hugging red cocktail dress, draped asymmetrically to accentuate her beauty. He really was one lucky bloke.

He grinned back at her, kissing the top of her head. "I'm glad you like it."

"Of course I do! How could I not?" Hermione looked at him earnestly. "Let's just hope the food is as good as the ambiance," she said jokingly.

Ron looked mildly panicked. "I researched this restaurant, actually. Everyone said it was amazing so far so -"

"Relax," Hermione smiled, noting that she had rubbed off on him. Ron, researching? The world must be ending. "I'm sure it will be fabulous."

"Er- I hope so too," Ron said, looked relieved. "I mean, I really did put a lot of time into researching it-"

Hermione laughed. "Merlin, have I rubbed off on you too much?"

Ron was about to respond when the hostess beckoned for them to follow her. He held his breath as they were led to a private alcove, enclosed by a shimmering set of golden drapes. As the entered, he heard Hermione's gasp as she took in the beautiful table in front of them.

A pure white marble slab had been placed above a golden sculpture of vines, intertwining to support the main part of the table. The silverware had been perfectly crafted and shaped to mimic the same vine-like grace of the rest of the set, elegantly laid next to a set of crystal glasses and a cluster of blush-pink roses. Hermione's eyes watered, overwhelmed by the beauty.

"Ron…" Hermione trailed off, at a loss for words. "This is…" she choked a little.

Ron smiled, glad that she seemed to be awestruck. "I'm glad you like it. You do like it, right?" he double checked. He needed everything to be perfect. Hermione barely had the sense to nod, still taking in her surroundings.

"It's beautiful," she whispered. Ron could barely hear her, but glowed with pride once he had digested her whisper.

The food did not disappoint either, a light but satisfying appetizer of fine cheeses and fruits followed by the most juicy and tender duck confit she had ever had.

"Oh this is heavenly," Hermione hummed. "See how researching pays off?" she teased lightly.

Ron shrugged, smiling. "Yeah, I really do."

"So how was work today?" Hermione asked as she cut off another piece of heaven.

"It was normal," Ron stated simply. "Not much to report. The only Death Eaters still out there are Yaxley and Macnair - Lucius Malfoy's tips have doomed the rest."

Hermione shuddered at Macnair's name, remembering the brutal executioner. "So many creatures died at his hands… and humans, too."

Ron's hand twitched. "Yaxley's one of the worst, too. Daddy Malfoy mentioned…" Ron trailed off, shaking his head. "Never mind."

"What, Ron?" Hermione asked, her utensils stilling. "Is there something I should know?"

"No, I just didn't want to bring up the fact that he was supposedly the one in charge of finding you and your parents," Ron sighed.

"Oh," Hermione said simply, tensing up slightly. "Well, they're still in Australia. Alive. But they don't understand why I don't just forsake the wizarding world entirely."

Ron grasped her hand. "You have another family, here, and I don't think we could survive without you."

Hermione smiled thinly. Ron cleared his throat, awkwardly patting her hand before drawing away. "So how's work with, um, Trenglewood, right?"

Hermione looked at him oddly. "Trenglewood hasn't been my boss since I transferred departments, Ron."

"Oh, right, right," Ron frowned. "Err…"

Hermione waved it off. "Louis Hendricks, my current boss, is fair. Not altogether too friendly, and on occasion slightly irritable, but he's a good person with values. It's hard to find, even now that most of the Death Eater influence has been removed from the Ministry."

"Is that important, values, I mean?" Ron asked.

"Of course it is!" Hermione looked across the table, shocked.

"Well, you know what I mean. For the workplace," Ron tried to clarify.

"We're dealing with essential cases, every day," Hermione said tightly. "Imagine if you were on the short end of a corrupt bargain, where your case isn't even heard because someone like Louis was bribed-"

"I get it, Hermione. That was a dumb question," Ron said softly. Hermione frowned. Just because she wasn't part of the every day action that the Aurors faced didn't mean that her job wasn't just as important.

"Anyways, I ran into Malfoy today-" she began.

"Malfoy?" Ron interrupted.

She gave him a pointed look, which kept him silent. "Yes, Draco Malfoy. He was in my meeting today about the St. Mungo's experimental research malpractice suit. It was a nightmare."

"What happened?" Ron asked sympathetically. Hermione was slightly taken aback - it was rare for Ron to ever show an interest in her work.

"Well, the prejudice against muggleborns apparently transfers to ivory-tower magic academia. The researchers at St. Mungo's are brilliant, no doubt, but many are pureblooded and hold the belief that muggleborns are inferior and incapable of understanding high level magical health research. Which is utter bollocks given that many of the Department of Mysteries researchers are muggleborn, but apparently that's not legitimate enough for them," Hermione gritted her teeth. "I snapped at them, and Malfoy later took me aside to point out that I gained no political allies having lost my temper. Irritating for me to hear, but true nonetheless."

"I highly doubt that Malfoy of all people is a person to listen to, advice-wise," Ron commented. "Cowardly ferret is likely trying to save his own skin by manipulating you to think he's trying to help you out. Like father, like son. They're all snakes, the lot of them."

Hermione sighed. "It wouldn't surprise me, but I'm hoping for better. Besides, it doesn't do us well to hold onto past grudges. Ultimately, prejudice is what caused this war, and we won't be any better than the Death Eaters if we hold onto prejudices the same way that they did."

Ron looked at her oddly. "But it's the Malfoys."

Hermione grimaced. "I know… but I'd take hypocritical, manipulative cowards over a psychotic executioner any day."

Another menu and a few glasses of golden champagne later, a waiter and waitress were bringing out mouthwatering molten chocolate cake paired with a heavenly helping of rose-vanilla ice cream. Hermione couldn't help but smile as she recounted her finest memories of dates at Florian Fortescue's when she and Ron were first starting out.

"Do you remember that time when Crookshanks nearly smashed your ice cream cone into your face?" Hermione giggled.

"Bloody beast," Ron grinned lopsidedly, though it seemed a little tense. Hermione shrugged it off, passing it off as Ron's distaste for her half kneazle. Hermione noticed the two waiters hovering awkwardly around the table, having placed the desserts down.

"Thank you, " Hermione said pointedly, hoping to hint that they were dismissed. Ron cleared his throat. "Oh, Hermione, I meant to introduce you to our waiters tonight," Ron smiled nervously. Hermione furrowed her eyebrows.

"Oh! How do you know Ron?" Hermione asked conversationally.

The waitress shot Ron a semi-panicked look. Hermione tensed. Had this waitress and Ron-

"Well, first off, this is Will Yu, and this is Mary, and I'm me," Ron stumbled slightly over his words and then awkwardly fished around his jacket before standing up and beginning to walk towards Hermione.

"Of course I know you're you, Ron," Hermione rolled her eyes, thoroughly confused, until her boyfriend sank down on one knee before her, holding out a little velvet box. The pieces fell into place, and a glance at the name tags of Will You and Marry Me confirmed it.

Hermione gasped as she saw a deep ruby inset into a golden band, clutching her hand to her chest. "Oh Ron," Hermione choked out.

"Did you get it or do I have to say it straight? I guess I didn't realize how confusing it could-" Ron was interrupted with a kiss. When they broke away for air, Ron smiled.

"I take that as a yes?" he grinned.

"Of course you moron," Hermione laughed, allowing her fiance to slide the ring onto her finger. "Honestly though, that was probably the most confusing proposal anyone's ever had the misfortune to encounter."

"Well, it worked, didn't it?" Ron grinned right back, his happiness radiating as she laughed, agreeing.

* * *

_Engaged: War Hero Ronald Weasley and Heroine Hermione Granger_, the Daily Prophet's headline splashed across countless stores and dining tables in private homes.

Including Draco Malfoy's.

He took one look at the photo of Hermione's brilliant smile and the light glinting off her left hand before angrily throwing the entire issue into the flickering tongues of the fireplace. He kicked the chair roughly before stomping off and slamming the door behind him.

**AN: Hello, my lovely followers! It's been far, far too long since I've updated anything, and I decided that since I was writing this and am quite a few chapters in, that I'd post it for you all. As you might be able to tell, this is starting off as a Romione, but I wanted to delve a little bit further into why their relationship wouldn't work in my world, rather than just cutting it off (cough I love THNW but it _was _my first fanfiction...). Be prepared for a long story and long breaks in between updates, as I'm finishing up my first year of college! This is going to be political, as well as plenty of biology (you know me). Please review, you'll be hearing from me soon!**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Morning, Louis," Hermione said brightly once she entered the office the next day.

"Good morning, Hermione. I believe congratulations are in order," he smiled, a rare occurrence in his usually pinched or at least indifferent composure.

"Thank you, Louis. I'll begin looking over the Merionto case files immediately," Hermione smiled as she made her way to her desk. Louis nodded appreciatively, returning to his work.

"HERMIONE JEAN GRANGER!" screeched her co-worker Vanessa Sterling as she pulled Hermione aside into her cubicle. Initially, Hermione had been wary of the former Slytherin - although she had never had any contact with the girl who had been two years ahead of her, the raven-haired beauty exuded a constant perfection and familiarity with pureblood society that Hermione had assumed equalled an attitude that rivalled Malfoy's. How wrong, and pleasantly surprised, she was. "Why didn't I immediately get a floo call with the news? I had to find out from this old tosser of a rag," Nessa gestured vaguely to the _Witch Weekly _issue that had been unceremoniously tossed in the bin. "Oh nevermind, you and Ron must have been celebrating," she waggled her eyebrows at Hermione.

"Oh Nessa," Hermione blushed. "You know -"

"Oh that's right, you two are so disgustingly adorable that all you do is cuddle. I can never live vicariously through you to hear about how you were so enthralled in the throes of passion that-" Nessa began, until interrupted by an intentional clearing of the throat. Nessa and Hermione guiltily turned towards Louis and one of their other co-workers, Brian, who simply looked amused.

"Please keep it workplace appropriate, ladies," Louis said in a clipped tone.

"My fault, sorry Louis," Nessa grinned, her white teeth contrasting sharply with her deep red lipstick.

Louis didn't even attempt to hide rolling his eyes. Nessa wasn't fooling anyone.

"I'll tell you all the details about the proposal at lunch, all right?" Hermione smiled, attempting to appease Nessa's insatiable curiosity.

"Fine, fine. Good luck with that Merionto case. It sounds so much more interesting than the latest transgression in the Flint-Novokov divorce case. Merlin's pants, I can't imagine who would've wanted to marry Flint at such a young age. Or actually any age. Ever," Nessa smirked, turning back to her work. Hermione chuckled before swinging into her own chair and settling down to read through a hefty set of paperwork.

* * *

"Draco," Blaise nodded as he passed his friend on the way to the Minister's office.

"Blaise," Draco acknowledged. "Plans to convene with the Minister?"

"Yes, actually. Why am I surprised that you know? After all, you're only a minute number of positions away from becoming his successor, yourself," Blaise chuckled.

"No, I merely deduced your meeting since I rarely happen upon you in these halls. Ordinarily, you're traveling, to Merlin knows where. What will you be meeting him about?"

"Currently, there appears to be an opening for the British-Italian ambassador, and Shacklebolt presumes I may be a qualified candidate. With this position, I would only have to travel between England and Italy, rather than all the way to Burkina Faso or Singapore," Blaise smiled. "I've enjoyed the travel so far, but I'm beginning to miss home. There are also openings for legal, scientific, and business consultation, however, so I expect the conversation will turn to potential candidates for those positions. Actually, I thought you might be able to assist on the business side, given your experience with DM Investments and all."

"Certainly. What type of business merger or cooperation is Italy offering, then?" Draco asked curiously.

"Cooperation, not merging, yet anyways," Blaise clarified. "Related to the pharmamagical industry."

"Health related?" Draco inquired. "You know… I have a person in mind for the legal consult candidate."

* * *

"Good morning, Minister," Blaise Zabini smiled as he sat down at Kingsley Shacklebolt's desk.

"Good morning, Mr. Zabini. I trust your mother has been well?" Kingsley's deep voice resonated throughout the office.

"Yes indeed. She took a brief respite over the last week in Italy to visit some family, but she is happy to be back in England. Shall I mention you asked after her?" Blaise's eyes twinkled.

"I'd prefer to do so in person, myself," Kingsley chuckled. "Thank you for seeing me at such short notice. As you know, there's been a recent opening in relations with Italy, and it appears that we are in dire need of a British-Italian ambassador. I've reviewed your experience in the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and given your previous negotiation successes as well as your historical and cultural Italian background, I think you'd be the perfect fit."

"I agree," Blaise smiled. "I would be very pleased to take on this position."

"I'm glad that was easily settled then," Kingsley smiled. "We can negotiate your promotion salary later, knowing how talented you are at the art of negotiation."

"Very well," Blaise returned. "What else would you like to discuss?"

"Well, there's a small matter of the particular situation we're currently in with the Italian government. The main topic of discussion between our two governments is largely business related, specifically the pharmamagical industry. Likely, you'll need both a legal, scientific, and business consultant, who would also travel back and forth between Britain and Italy with you. Have you thought of any potential candidates that you know would work well with together?" Kingsley asked.

"I am sure you have already inferred my selection for my business consultant," Blaise said smoothly as he clasped his hands together on the rosewood desk.

"Draco Malfoy," Kingsley ventured, without hesitation.

"Naturally," Blaise nodded. "As one of my classmates and perhaps the most experienced businessman that Britain currently has to offer, his expertise is unparalleled, and I know for certain that I'd be able to work with him efficiently."

"There is, however, the matter of his background," Kingsley said cautiously. "Do you think he can be trusted with such a pivotal role in the future of our wizarding economy?"

"All Draco has done since the war is try to repair the damage he and his family inflicted on our society. If it hadn't been for his company that organizes and helps businesses back on their feet after the war, the entire wizarding community would have suffered an economic collapse. Besides, if you did not trust him, you never would have let him set foot in this Ministry beyond his trial, much less have an office that's a mere four doors down from you," Blaise defended his friend.

Kingsley smiled. "I couldn't have said it better myself. I hope Mr. Malfoy realizes what a true friend he has in you, Mr. Zabini. I agree, we'll appoint Mr. Malfoy to be your business consultant. Scientific consultant?"

"Naturally, Ms. Olympia Dynan. She's on the board of directors for most, if not all, of the pharmamagical companies based in Britain, and has typically been the brains behind most innovation in the field."

Kingsley nodded. "She's quite accomplished, and rumor has it that she's one of the most persuasive people in Wizarding Britain. If she'll have us, she would fit in quite nicely."

Blaise nodded his assent.

"But what of your legal consult?"

"You might be surprised of my request, but I'd like to enlist Hermione Granger, if she'll work with us," Blaise proposed as Kingsley's eyebrows shot up.

"She's certainly a talented witch, but I'm surprised that you would propose that she work with you - I understand that relations between your friends and the Gryffindor trio were less than ideal before, during, and after the war," Kingsley said confusedly.

"However unfortunately true that is - was," Blaise corrected himself, "I believe that given the chance, we'll be able to work together professionally, if not find some common ground."

"Why her in particular?"

"Well, given her position previously in the Care for Magical Creature department, she had to do a great deal of negotiation as well as perform innumerable ambassadorial positions with different creatures and their societies. In addition, her current position in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and especially with her focus in Wizengamot Administration, guarantees that she knows laws backwards and forwards. I also recently read up on her instrumental preparation in the St. Mungo's malpractice suit, so she's had experience with healthcare and healthcare laws in Britain. Honestly, sir, she couldn't be a better fit," Blaise finished. "Most other lawyers' expertise is based in estate law and custody battles. Everything after the chaos of the war is tied up in different claims to various forms of property. Healthcare has taken the back burner, and she's one of very few who have taken on St. Mungo's. Hardly anyone will challenge them, since their families more than likely owe the hospital their lives."

Kingsley nodded his head, musing. "I can certainly see what you see in her. And I certainly believe that the three of you, if given a few hours to hash out old resentments, would be able to work together smoothly and effectively. Ms. Dynan would also smooth things over. You four could be a force to reckon with," Kingsley said. He smiled at Blaise.

"Good, then I believe all that's in order is to notify her of a potential job opening. Now let's see what we can do about your salary…"

* * *

_Two Months Later..._

Ginny barged into Hermione's office, slamming her bag down on Hermione's desk. "You're not going to marry him," she stated coolly.

Hermione looked up from her paperwork, frowning. "I'm not marrying who?"

"Ronald, " Ginny said exasperatedly. "Who else for Merlin's sake, Draco Malfoy?"

Hermione arched an eyebrow. "And why am I not marrying Ron?"

"You may not realize it yet, but you two are just...just... bad for each other! You're not suited for one another. Look," Ginny emphasized as she noticed Hermione's amused and slightly exasperated look. "He's not at your level of intelligence-"

"There are more important things in a relationship than equal levels of smarts," Hermione broke in. "Ron isn't dumb, as I'm sure you know. That's plenty enough for me," Hermione asserted.

"Don't interrupt me!" Ginny snapped. "When have you ever had an intellectually stimulating conversation with him? Recently?"

"A perfectly normal dinner conversation about the current situation with the Death Eaters' orphans. We agreed to disagree," Hermione stated simply. "Ginny, we're fine."

"No, see, that's two, well actually three, problems right there. How often do your political views line up? Rarely - you're far too generous and kind-hearted, while Ron can barely stand to share his friendship with Harry and you, much less the Ministry's resources. Merlin help us all if you two ever get into a conversation about politics. Another thing - Death Eaters are what interest _him._ That's what he does for a living. When's the last time he ever gave you any airtime about your work with the mermaid judiciary systems? The things that you love, no matter how boring that might seem? If I really want to be nitpicky, I'd also comment on your word choice there, hmm? Whatever happened to 'we love each other'? You guys are just 'fine'?"

Hermione frowned, and Ginny pounced. "Look Hermione, Ron's been second-best all his life. At first just in our family, and then with you and Harry at Hogwarts. Now that he's entered Auror training, he'll always be in Harry's shadow. Frankly, Harry is just _better. _Faster, smarter, kinder. More strategic, better at spellwork - in a few years, he'll be Head Auror. And you know it, too, don't you deny it. If Ron marries you, he'll never be able to escape his feelings of inadequacy and jealousy. He will never challenge you to think from a different perspective, because he couldn't care less. He will get jealous, selfish, critical, and therefore unkind. Insensitive, too, as he has always been before.

"You need someone to support you, to brainstorm ideas with and to be a fantastic sounding board. Someone who is just as bright and stubborn as you, and who is interested in what you have to say simply because _you _find it interesting. You need someone to challenge you, cherish you, and cheer you up or cheer you on when the goings get tough or when you set out to accomplish seemingly impossible things. And that's exactly everything that Ron is not. He needs someone to dote on, someone who isn't as practical as you and independent minded. Someone who doesn't hold their career and accomplishments as high of a priority as you. He needs to be worshipped - and you refuse to worship anyone," Ginny finished her rant, breathing heavily.

"Ginny," Hermione smiled tragically. "That _would _be the type of person who is perfect for me. But perfect people like that don't exist."

"But there are better people for both you and Ron out there," Ginny said firmly, before picking up her bag. "Do yourself a favor for once, would you? Forget what anyone else wants and do what _you _want. Don't marry Ron because you don't want to hurt his feelings. Don't marry him because my mum wants you as a daughter, or because I want you as my sister. Break it off now so that you both have time to heal and find someone else before you realize ten years in with three children that you really weren't meant for each other," Ginny said sadly before turning on her heel and walking out of Hermione's office. Hermione was stunned, reeling from the redhead's abrupt intrusion and departure.

"Well, that was out of the blue," Nessa commented from her cubicle across the way.

"Not really. Ron and I had been beginning to plan our wedding date at our weekly Sunday dinner at the Burrow, yesterday. We got into a bit of a row," Hermione frowned.

"Wasn't this supposed to be your celebratory dinner about the Merionto case? What happened?"

"I want a long engagement, and he wants to be married next month. We're both stubborn, so compromise isn't exactly in our vocabulary," Hermione sighed, only to be startled by Nessa loudly making an alarm noise.

"Red flag, right there," Nessa pointed out. "How on Earth are you two going to be able to compromise if it comes to the big decisions? A wedding date is really not that big of a deal."

Hermione let her head fall and bang on her desk. "Lovely. The last thing I need on my shoulders is if my engagement is endangered."

"Hmm," Nessa examined her own fingernails as she spoke. "I would say, rather, that your whole future life is endangered if you're engaged to the wrong man."

Hermione shook her head. Couldn't they see that she and Ron, though imperfect, were meant to be?

* * *

"Hello, Mr. Malfoy. Please, come in," Kingsley Shacklebolt's voice was muffled through the door. Draco swung the door open, smiling politely as he sat without invitation. Shacklebolt studied him, slightly perplexed at the paradox sitting in front of him. Malfoy Junior was clearly arrogant and egotistical, but humbled by his mistakes and current reputation. Manipulative and scheming, but loyal to a fault within his family and friends. Selfish and cruel, but so kind and generous to a select few that it was hard to believe he was the same person. Kingsley shrugged internally. He supposed that that was what it meant to be human.

"How may I be of service, Minister?" Draco inquired.

"I am sure Mr. Zabini has already debriefed you on why I have called you here," Shacklebolt smiled.

"I'm sure that I do not know what you mean?" Draco raised an eyebrow.

"I have no time for games, Mr. Malfoy," Shacklebolt chuckled. "Will you take the position of business advisor for our new British-Italian ambassador?"

"I would be happy to," Draco nodded seriously. "Though I have one question."

"Please," Shacklebolt gestured for him to continue.

"It is my understanding that you already confirmed Blaise for the ambassadorial position two months prior to our meeting. May I ask why you are only now able to begin assigning Blaise's advisory positions?"

"Well, Mr. Malfoy, you were not the only candidate that the Ministry was in charge of reviewing for the position, despite Mr. Zabini's recommendation."

"Of course," Draco drawled. "But I would have imagined that Blaise's recommendation would have expedited the process."

"I am sure our time would be better spent negotiating your responsibilities, promotion bonus, and subsequent benefits, rather than discussing how you came to sit across from me at this desk," Shacklebolt pointed out bluntly.

"Naturally," Draco inclined his head. "Please continue."

* * *

A ministry owl flew to Hermione's desk, startling her from her paperwork.

"Bloody owl!" Hermione cursed as the bird scattered her files across the floor. She plucked an owl treat from her jar, feeding it while she untied the message from its leg. It hooted indignantly before flying away.

_HG: If possible, please come to my office at 12:30pm today._

_~Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt_

Hermione glanced at her watch, widening as she look between the current time and the enormous stack of files that now needed to be reorganized, thanks to the Minister's owl. She had less than an hour before her meeting with the Minister.

Fifty-four files completed and reorganized and exactly half an hour later, Hermione was walking down the hall to Kingsley's office when she bumped into none other than Draco Malfoy.

"Granger," he acknowledged as she approached Shacklebolt's office.

"Malfoy," she nodded, surprised that they had somehow called a truce of civility. "I'm surprised to see you here."

"I'd get accustomed to my presence, if I were you," Malfoy smirked haughtily. "I have a distinct feeling that we'll be seeing a whole deal more of each other."

Hermione merely looked at him questioningly before brushing past him.

"Come in!" Kingsley called.

Hermione entered to find the Minister waiting intently for her, a contemplative look on his face. "Good afternoon, Minister."

"Hermione," Kingsley smiled warmly. "And please, none of this 'Minister' nonsense. I am just 'Kingsley' to you."

"My mistake," Hermione smiled. "How have you been, Kingsley?"

"Quite well, thank you for asking. Do you know why I've called you here today?" Kingsley asked, getting straight to business.

"No, I'm afraid I really have no idea," Hermione informed him.

"Well, if you haven't heard the news, we've recently appointed an ambassador between the British and Italian governments to head the cooperation of an expansion of an Italian company into the British markets."

"Blaise Zabini?" Hermione asked, vaguely recalling her former classmate.

"Indeed," Kingsley nodded. "Now, although Mr. Zabini will be in charge of the main negotiations between our two governments, his talents lie in the negotiation rather than in the knowledge of the British business and scientific world or legal boundaries. We've already hired Mr. Zabini's business advisor, though we've just been denied by our first choice for scientific consultant. We're also looking for a legal consultant. We believe, given your talent for negotiation with magical creatures and your combined expertise in the legality of various cases during your time in the Wizengamot, that you would be the perfect fit to advise Mr. Zabini."

Hermione's interest had been peaked. "What would the responsibilities entail?"

"I wouldn't imagine too different a position than the one you currently hold," Kingsley smiled. "Like your preparation for the Wizengamot prosecution, you would similarly prepare Mr. Zabini on potential legal boundaries in Britain as well as in Italy on the topics that he happens to be negotiating. For this particular business situation, you'll likely be concerned mainly with healthcare, experimental trials, patient confidentiality and privacy, etcetera. You would have to familiarize yourself with Italian law, but I don't expect it would be too great a challenge for a mind like yours, Hermione."

Hermione was becoming more excited by the minute. "Simply put: research, prepare, advise, repeat?" Kingsley nodded. "Would I be traveling to Italy to directly take part in the negotiations, as well?"

"Yes, absolutely. Though Mr. Zabini will be, let's say, your team lead, it is expected that you take part in the discussions as well."

Hermione nodded, lost in her whirlwind thoughts at this new opportunity.

"Do you think you might take the position?" Kingsley prompted after a moment's silence.

"I believe I'll have to talk this over with my fiancee, but I am especially excited and grateful for the opportunity, Kingsley. I think it would pose to be a very interesting and rewarding experience," Hermione smiled.

"Good. I'm glad to hear it. You don't have to get back to me immediately, but in the next two weeks would be ideal."

"Of course," Hermione smiled. "Is there anything else?"

"Not at all, I'm sorry to keep you from your work. Congratulations on the successful Merionto case, by the way. The Wizengamot truly could not have done it without your support," Kingsley praised.

"Thank you, Kingsley," Hermione smiled as she stood up and made to leave. Just at the door, however, she turned. "One last question - who has been confirmed for the business consultant?"

"Draco Malfoy," Kingsley said slowly, trying to gauge her reaction. Hermione's mouth twisted slightly, as if she weren't really surprised, but had been hoping for a different answer. "Do you think your past history would impede you from working together?" Kingsley asked gently.

Hermione paused, mulling over his words.

"I don't really believe so. In the past few times I've run into him, he's been perfectly professional and actually offered advice that, though was painful to hear, was quite valid. And I am grateful for that. I think Malfoy and I are at least mature enough to maintain a professional setting, so I don't believe it would pose a problem," Hermione answered truthfully.

Kingsley smiled. "I was hoping to hear that. Have a good day, Hermione."

Hermione waved, before returning to her office.

**AN: Hi everyone! Thanks so much for your favorites, follows, and reviews! I wanted to take the opportunity to address some of the Guest reviews (If you reviewed on your account, hopefully you've gotten a PM from me, otherwise, it will be coming soon!) simply for the sake of dialogue. Apologies to those who would rather not see a lengthy AN, but Guest reviewers leave me little choice on the matter if I wish to speak with them.**

**Guest #1: Hopefully if you've decided to continue reading my story, you'll be able to see this! What about the summary got you "off on the wrong foot"? I recognize that I'm writing Draco and Hermione slightly different from JKR, but I'd appreciate your comments on my thoughts about their development.**

**MMM takes place at least 5 years after the Battle of Hogwarts, where Hermione and Draco have significant experiences that have changed them. Hermione is not Ron, but after five years of cleaning out the Ministry of Death Eater influence, I would argue that she'd be considerably more irritable that blood prejudice still appears to be ingrained within their society. Does this mean she'd blow up at every little comment? Of course not. But given the stress of a high profile case (honestly, what lawyer would want to take on St. Mungo's, the hospital that more than likely saved their loved ones' lives?) and the length of time Hermione spent in that meeting, she'd be understandably extremely frustrated that blood was a barrier yet again in such an important aspect of her career.**

**Another thing to note in Hermione's rage - she and Ron have spent the majority of their lives together, and as you can see by Ron's desperation to research the perfect setting for his proposal, they've picked up some of each other's traits. Is this ideal? Not necessarily, but these things can happen easily in relationships, and it was something I hope you will see as very probable and another point to the flaws in their relationship. **

**In regards to Draco, five years is plenty enough time to change, given the drastic consequences that I'm sure the Malfoys faced in the aftermath of the war. Before, of course he flaunted his superior status at every chance he got! But five years later after becoming the scum of wizarding society, where the public watched his every move, waiting for an excuse to throw him into Azkaban? He learned to blend in, to follow everyone else's direction whilst secretly pushing his own ideas at the same time. Even before the war, however, I expect Draco's interaction with pureblood society to be an entirely different side than what Harry saw during his time at Hogwarts. Draco would've been expected to have impeccable manners (of course only in **_**respectable**_ **company), where he represented the Malfoy reputation and assured others that he would carry on the power and success for which the Malfoy line is infamous. I imagine a society where political maneuvers are discussed over tea as they lounge in their luxurious mansions, Merlin forbid you were to outright blurt your plot to ruin the minister's reputation. The gossip that that would bring! Draco is no stranger to the art of subtlety; he's just never had to worry about it in the audience of muggleborns and halfbloods. Now he does, and as his career fleshes out some more in the coming chapters, I hope you'll see that he wouldn't have gotten where he is had he still acted the spoilt brat from Hogwarts.**

**Let me know your thoughts, and for the rest of you, please review! This is how I become a better writer!**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Evening, love," Ron kissed her head as he strode through the floo, dropping his jacket down on her living room sofa. Hermione smiled as she made her way to the kitchen.

"What do you feel like today? Cumberland pie? Or the beef parsnip pudding?" Hermione pulled out the leftovers from the weekend.

"Both," Ron smiled, settling down at the counter overlooking the kitchen. "The more food, the better."

"As always," Hermione chuckled before popping them in the microwave. "How was work, today?"

"Decent. We've made some progress in finding Yaxley - it appears he may have disappeared into the Bulgarian wilderness. We're currently 'coordinating' with the Bulgarian government, but to me it sounds like a load of bollocks," Ron emphasized his irritation.

"Why's that?" Hermione asked as she placed the silverware and plates in front of him, pulling out the food and serving them both.

"I don't see what's so hard about having a few trackers dropped off in the Bulgarian woods. It really shouldn't take a whole week of negotiating, especially since we're losing more and more time while the trail is hot," Ron pointed out.

"That's a valid concern, but I can understand why it would take a while to get the negotiations through," Hermione noted as she settled down next to him. "We're not always friendly with the Bulgarians, especially after having accused their best school's headmaster of assisting a genocide. They likely wouldn't feel comfortable about having a team of British aurors invade their territory."

"But it's a simple enough job. Send in a few trackers, apprehend Yaxley, and bug out. It's not like we're there to overthrow the government or otherwise," Ron sighed exasperatedly.

Hermione narrowed her eyes, feeling that Ron hadn't really even listened to her. "Still, why would they let a potential threat into their country if they could prevent it?"

"Yaxley's a threat, too," Ron said heatedly.

"I never said he wasn't-" Hermione began.

"Then we need to get him as soon as possible! We need to put him away before he hurts anyone else!" Ron ranted stubbornly.

"I agree, but there are other matters to consider, Ronald," Hermione began to be annoyed.

"Nonsense," Ron spat. "He's a Death Eater, and they all belong in Azkaban if they're not given the Kiss."

"Just because someone's a Death Eater, doesn't mean that they necessarily deserve death or a life sentence," Hermione lectured. Ron looked at her as if she had grown two heads.

"How could you say that? Have you forgotten what they've done to you? To your family? To my family? Why don't you ask George-" Ron began to shout.

"Calm down, Ron," Hermione snapped. "Of course I haven't forgotten. But the title 'Death Eater' means very little - what they actually did, or omitted to do, is what counts."

Ron was breathing heavily, and Hermione didn't have the patience to get in a row over something as simple as the Bulgarian government's stubbornness. "Forget it. Can we just eat dinner?" Hermione asked. Ron nodded sharply, stabbing his fork into the food Hermione had warmed up. For a while, all that could be heard in the flat was the slightly angry clinking of silverware.

"I got a job promotion," Hermione said flatly after a few minutes had passed.

"Oh really? Congratulations," Ron halfheartedly smiled, hoping to put their almost argument behind them. "Are there new responsibilities? Or is it basically the same job with a different title?"

"It's almost an entirely different job, but it's got considerable overlap between my current job and what I did in the Department for the Care of Magical Creatures," Hermione explained. "I've been selected as a potential ambassador and legal advisor for British-Italian relations."

"Wow, Mione, that's great," Ron smiled, but it was forced. "When do you start?"

"I'm not really sure yet," Hermione sighed, running her fingers through her knotted hair. "I'm still debating on whether I should take the job, since it will require a lot of travelling. Especially in the first year of negotiations."

Ron was suddenly silent. Hermione turned from her food to look at him, a muscle working in his jaw. "What?" she asked. Ron refused to respond.

"What did I say wrong?" Hermione asked frustratedly. "Tell me what's going on in that head of yours."

"You ought to be able to figure it out, Miss Brightest Witch of Our Age," Ron gritted out.

"I'm not a mind reader, and you know that I think Divination is a load of hippogriff dung. Please, just be straightforward with me," Hermione pleaded.

"You want me to be straightforward?" Ron asked, his tone rising. "I'll be straightforward. From what I see, we get engaged for a couple months, and as soon as we're talking about wedding dates, all you want to do is push it off, off and off, even though I think the sooner the better. And now, you're going to take a job that's going to place you in Italy for a large portion of the next year. That sounds like an awfully convenient runaway plan!" Ron ended shouting at her.

Hermione looked at him, hurt. "No, Ron, that's not what I intended it to be! Besides, I haven't decided on if I'm going to take the job!"

"Then what _did _you intend? Because it seems an awful lot like you don't want to marry me at all!" Ron bellowed.

"Ron, I said _yes_ to your proposal!" Hermione bit out frustratedly. "I _want _to marry you. I just wanted a long engagement because we can have a bit more time to develop our careers and adventure like the young couple we are before settling down into married life-"

"What's wrong with married life?" Ron shouted.

"Nothing!" Hermione shrieked, losing her patience. "It's just _different_ from what we know now! And I like what we have now, and I want to keep it this way for just a bit longer!"

"Sounds like you just want to put marriage in the far distance," Ron growled.

"I _want _to marry you, Ron, just not so quickly! Can't you get that through your thick head?" Hermione yelled.

"Oh, I'm _sorry _I'm not as _brilliant_ or _intelligent_ as you," Ron sneered, standing up from his seat at the counter. "Miss _high and mighty_ who always has to be _number one_ and _perfect._"

"Ron, I didn't mean to say you were dumb - just that you're so stubborn sometimes-" Hermione tried to apologize, but Ron would hear none of it.

"Me? Stubborn?" Ron laughed derisively. "It's _you_ who won't budge on any of these matters, who won't compromise-"

"I was going for a two year long engagement, but since you wanted earlier I cut that request to half!" Hermione interrupted.

"Like that's much better," Ron snapped.

"It's a _whole year earlier!_" Hermione emphasized, waving her hands around her. "I tried to provide a compromise; it's _you _who wouldn't hear any of it!"

"All right, Miss Know-It-All," Ron snipped. Hermione was sick of his childish name calling.

"JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE INSECURE ABOUT YOUR OWN INTELLIGENCE AND CAREER DOES NOT MEAN YOU HAVE TO TAKE IT OUT ON ME!" she screamed.

Ron's mouth snapped shut, his eyes hardening and his face stony. She had hit the nail on the head, and Hermione knew she had gone too far.

"Oh, Ron-" Hermione suddenly said quietly, trying to take back her words. Ron ignored her, walking past her as he grabbed his jacket from the living room and made his way to the floo.

"Ron, I didn't mean that-" Hermione fruitlessly tried to stop him, but he wouldn't even look at her as he grabbed the floo powder and threw it down into the fireplace, returning to the Burrow.

"I'm so sorry… _I love you…_" she whispered to the empty fireplace, the words dying on her lips.

* * *

"Swanky," Blaise commented as he strode out of Draco's Floo and looked around at Draco's modernized office: simplistic, elegant, yet severe. Draco rolled his eyes from his dark walnut, almost ebony desk, which was highlighted by the thin stainless steel hardware placed on the drawers. The black leather chair was all business and straightforward, no cushion or fancy adornments were to be found. "I don't think I've ever been in your new home, before." Blaise surveyed the rest of the room, from the neatly organized bookshelves to the single silver candelabra. There wasn't a single picture frame in sight.

"Is there a particular reason why you wanted to see me?" Draco asked dryly.

"What, I can't call on my best mate?" Blaise smirked.

Draco turned his chair back around, clearly signalling that he had little time or patience for Blaise's facetious comments. Blaise sighed. Draco was no fun, anymore.

"Did you decide to take the job?" Blaise asked seriously.

Draco nodded once in affirmation.

"What about the Granger girl?"

"How should I know?" Draco asked, still with his back to Blaise as he perused more paperwork on the DM Investments stock options.

"Well, it appeared that you were keeping track of her, to some degree," Blaise noted slyly.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "I don't like what you're insinuating."

"Live a little! You don't have Lucius on your back, and your mother only wishes for your happiness. Maybe it's time to be a bit rebellious," Blaise grinned.

"Oh, like you and Parkinson?" Draco laughed derisively. "Please tell me the two of you have quit your ridiculous tryst." It was well known that the Parkinsons had little respect for Tazia Cascioferra's long list of ex-lovers and husbands, many of whom died mysteriously. After the war, however, Pansy's most massive "fuck you" to her parents was fulfilled by dating the son of the woman they so despised.

"Currently, it's a mutually beneficial relationship," Blaise waved his hand dismissively. "And so long as it continues to be so, it will continue."

"It will never last," Draco predicted.

"Oh, we both know it won't. That doesn't stop us from having a little… fun," Blaise smirked.

"It must be nice to be so careless," Draco mused.

Blaise nodded, turning back to the fireplace. "You ought to try it sometime. I have to find a new science consultant. Let me know if Granger accepts, too."

"Perhaps you ought to woo her," Draco suggested sarcastically. "No woman can withstand the Italian Stallion."

"As always, I am at least two steps ahead of you," Blaise sighed, before disappearing in a whirl of green flames.

* * *

"Hello, Ms. Granger," a smooth silky voice interrupted her from her case files. It was just as well, however, since Hermione had been starting at the same sentence for the past half an hour.

"Zabini!" Hermione acknowledged, surprised that he was actually standing in front of her desk. She examined him as he stood before; she had never really had the opportunity to see him up close, and she couldn't deny that he was quite the looker. Lean, tall, dark, and handsome. What a cliche. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh I was passing through, and I thought I'd drop by and see what your thoughts were on taking the job," he asked politely. Nessa looked sharply at Hermione, having overheard Blaise's faux pas.

"Err..." Hermione glanced quickly around after shooting Nessa a warning glare. "I'm still in the process of making my decision, but I'll do my best to get back to Kingsley as soon as I can. I also haven't mentioned my receiving of this job offer to my coworkers and boss, so I would appreciate your discretion."

"I'm sorry, I was unaware that your current situation is largely unknown," Blaise apologized deferentially. "I will certainly be more wary in the future until you've made your decision."

"Thank you, I appreciate that." Hermione smiled - talking to her formal school rival was easier than she expected. Although she had never conversed much or fought with the Slytherin, it was apparent that the only real competition for the number one ranking at Hogwarts was Blaise Zabini, Draco Malfoy, Anthony Goldstein, Hannah Abbott, and herself. There had always been a certain amount of tension whenever they were forced to interact.

"Is there anything I can do to perhaps swing you to our side?" Blaise asked innocently, but Hermione sensed a slight undertone of something that unsettled her. Before she could respond, however, he continued.

"I realize that Draco and I have not had the best history with you, and Draco especially so. I can understand why you may feel uncomfortable by being placed in a situation where you would be working with us in close proximity. Draco and I, however, truly believe that you would be a valuable asset to this team and would treat you with the respect that you deserve. I acknowledge that our track record does not speak well towards our characters, but I hope you will give us the chance to demonstrate our professionalism and collaboration. I believe we could do a lot of good, especially with the three most brilliant minds in our year working together," Blaise concluded, alluding to what he expected she remembered of him. And he was spot on.

"Mr. Zabini-" Hermione began.

"Blaise," he interrupted. "I think we can start on a first-name basis now, especially seeing that we may be future partners in a short while."

"Blaise," she smiled thinly. "Although our past histories were definitely a factor in my consideration, believe me when I say that it's exactly that. Past history. There is an innumerable amount of other variables that I haven't yet figured out, but I will absolutely get back to Kingsley by the deadline." Blaise knew a dismissal when he heard one.

"I'm glad to hear we may yet have the chance to move on from our misguided childhood choices. Thank you for your time, and if you do feel yourself leaning towards the other way, please give me a ring if you would like to hear a few more persuasive arguments," Blaise smiled widely as he handed her his business card.

"Perfect. Thank you," Hermione returned, and watched as Blaise exited the Wizengamot Administration offices.

"You got another job offering?" Nessa hissed at her. Hermione merely nodded.

"Well tell me the details! Who, what, when, where, why, how?" Nessa fired them off, one by one.

"Kingsley asked me the other day if I'd be willing to work as a legal consultant for the newly appointed British-Italian ambassador," Hermione began explaining.

"Ah. And the infamous Italian Stallion has been chosen?" Nessa drawled.

"Infamous?" Hermione queried.

"What do you know of him?" Nessa narrowed her eyes at Hermione, who shrugged.

"Not much, beyond the fact that he's a Slytherin and one of the few other people at Hogwarts who had been competing for my first place ranking. I believe he and Hannah just beat out Malfoy, who slipped during our sixth year… as to be expected," Hermione explained.

Nessa nodded. "Well, at least in the pureblood community, Blaise's mother isn't well respected. She's had more than six or seven husbands, not that anyone can really keep track anymore. Almost all of them have died in mysterious ways, leaving her large sums of money that even non-Slytherins can sniff out as a gold digger," Nessa explained in a low voice.

"Really?" Hermione asked worriedly.

"To be fair, her first husband, Blaise's father, was someone that the rumor says she actually loved and cared for. He was the only one who didn't pass mysteriously - he was killed during the first war. I suspect that she's never really been able to settle down with anyone else, and that her family in Italy has taken care of her leftovers."

Hermione looked saddened and horrified at the same time. "Well it's no easy thing to lose your better half… though dabbling in others' lives and having your family put out hits on them… that's not exactly the best way of coping, I'd say."

Nessa shrugged. "Naturally, since her husband passed away due to the first war, she also was not particularly supportive of Voldemort's reign both during the first and second war, which made her exceptionally unpopular amongst the wizarding aristocracy. I daresay that's what kept Blaise out of the trouble with the Death Eaters that Draco and the other Slytherins were forced to participate in. He was always treated a bit as the outcast, and made up for his loneliness by going through loads of girls at Hogwarts," Nessa said a tad bitterly.

"Were you one of those girls?" Hermione asked curiously.

"No, but my sister was. Broke her poor heart - I think she was two years below you."

Hermione patted Nessa's hand consolingly. After a minute of silence, Hermione asked gently. "Other than his dating habits, do you believe he's a person that I could work with?"

Nessa contemplated for a while, before finally nodding. "The true Blaise, underneath all those layers of fake confidence and defence mechanisms, is probably a decent bloke. I never outright saw him be mean to muggleborns, though it was clear that he didn't respect them much. He's an intellectual, and spent much of his time in the library, if I remember correctly. Likely a result of his inconspicuous role as the outcast of pureblood society. I remember my mother telling my sister that she really shouldn't have gotten mixed up with Blaise, especially since the Italians can be ruthless. Morally, which I know is important to you, he's certainly better aligned to your values than the ever ambiguous Draco Malfoy."

"Oh Merlin, please don't get me started on Malfoy," Hermione sighed.

Nessa shrugged. "He's human, just like the rest of us. Seven, eight years ago, he learned his lesson, though. You can't deny that he's come a long way from his misguided childhood."

"That's true," Hermione acknowledged. "Doesn't mean he still has to be an arrogant prick."

Nessa laughed loudly. "Preach it, sister." Her laughter died off fairly quickly though, and Hermione looked at her co-worker questioningly. "Have you made up with Ron, yet?"

Hermione sighed, rubbing her temples. "No. I'll apologize for hurting him, but every single word I said was very true."

"Which, likely, is why it hurt him so much," Nessa pointed out.

"I don't know what to do," Hermione sighed frustratedly. "On one hand, I feel like I should apologize, but really there's not much to apologize _for._ Ron, on the other hand, has never been the first one to give in after a row, and he has _far_ much more to apologize for."

"Too stubborn for your own good, you two," Nessa smiled sadly. "Do you think you need his input on this new job of yours?"

"Yes," Hermione said with certainty. "This is going to affect the both of us for the next year or longer, and it should be a joint decision. He'll always carry it as a grudge later on if I make the decision without him."

"That would certainly poison your marriage," Nessa pointed out.

Hermione sighed. "I'm starting to see what Ginny was yelling at me about… I've sacrificed for him, during his Auror training and on countless missions where we had to relocate. It's only been this last year and a half that we've been able to stay in one spot. But now that it's my turn to travel a bit for my career, he refuses to even hear me out."

Nessa tapped her chin thoughtfully. "I'd say that if you really need his input, forgive him for now, at least, since your deadline is coming up. Talk to him about it, reach your decision, tell Kingsley, and then go back to being royally pissed with him. He needs to work out some issues with you, but it needs to come later."

Hermione nodded. "That makes sense. Thanks for the great advice, as usual Nessa."

Nessa smiled. "You want to hear my opinion on the job?" Hermione nodded.

"Take it. I remember how driven you've always been, wanting the real chance to really change our society for the better. And though you're certainly a step up from where you were in CMC, I think this is the next step. I'll miss you dearly, but this is a fantastic opportunity to learn how to really maneuver politics and get the experience working with the international community that you'll need if you ever get a bid for Minister. And honestly, if Ron can't see that, dump his ass. You'll know then that he doesn't know or apparently care about what's best for you."

Hermione nodded slightly, contemplating Nessa's words.

* * *

"Ron?" Hermione asked as she entered his cubicle in the Auror Office.

"Hermione?" Ron asked, genuinely surprised to see her.

"I just wanted to… say I'm sorry. I didn't want to hurt you, but I know my words cut deep, and that's unacceptable," Hermione sighed. "I don't know what got into me."

"Hey, it should be me, actually, who's apologizing," Ron said comfortingly, and Hermione's heart jumped up in her throat.

"For what?" Hermione asked softly.

"Getting mad at you over nothing. You were just trying to get me to see the other side," Ron said simply, without even addressing his inability to even hear her out, lack of faith in her in regards to the marriage, and his belittling attitude. Hermione sighed internally. This would be a problem she'd have to deal with later, though.

"So are we okay?" Ron asked.

"Yeah. One more thing though, before I run back to finish up my cases for today. Do you really think I should skip the job offer?"

"I really don't like the idea of you traveling. I know we haven't set a date yet, but I don't like you going off when we're so close. Isn't this supposed to be when we spend the most time with each other?" Ron pointed out.

Hermione forced a smile. "Okay, Ron, I'll think a little bit more on it and go to Kingsley once I've finalized my decision."

"Okay," Ron said softly. Hermione turned to leave when he spoke up again. "Just… just don't overthink it, okay 'mione?"

"Sure," Hermione smiled stiffly, but given Ron's genuine smile, it didn't seem like he noticed.

* * *

_Three Days Later..._

Hermione sat alone in her flat, idly fingering a barely filled wine glass, the red translucent liquid swirling melancholically at the bottom of the crystal. She looked across the table at the empty chair in front of her, flashes of ginger hair hovering above the wooden seat from the restaurant earlier that evening.

"_You're… what with me?" Ron had asked, flabbergasted._

_Hermione bit her lip, looking down at her barely touched salad. "Breaking it off. Ending it," she said after a pause._

_Ron sat there, shocked into silence. They sat there, Hermione fiddling with the folds of her emerald cocktail dress, Ron dumbfoundedly staring at his now ex-fiance._

Hermione set the glass down, pushing back her chair. The scraping sound of wood on tile echoed throughout the silence of the flat, sudden and scratchy.

_He hadn't known what to say. His mouth hung slightly open, his eyes glassy and utterly confused. She didn't dare meet his gaze, her hands shaking as she folded and refolded the cloth napkin in her lap. Ringless, as she had slid the ruby and gold band towards him after her long, drawn out speech._

She stumbled around in her kitchen, packing uneaten food away to store back in the refrigerator.

_"Why?" He asked hollowly. "I thought... I thought we were good. After we made up."_

_"No, Ron," Hermione croaked. "We aren't good."_

_The shock was dissolving, melting into something else. Something that Hermione cringed at every time._

_Pain. Utterly pure pain._

"_I'm so sorry, Ronald," Hermione whispered. "I don't want to hurt you…"_

"_Bit late for that," Ron laughed cynically. _

_Hermione shuddered as she breathed. "I'm hurting, too."_

"_Then why," Ron paused, his eyes flashing dangerously, "are you doing this?"_

"_We aren't… we aren't meant to be together," Hermione's voice quivered._

"_AND WHAT THE BLOODY HELL DOES THAT MEAN?" Ron exploded. The entire restaurant turned to look at them, the clinking of silverware stopping suddenly. Hermione shrank back into her chair. Incensed by her continued silence, Ron continued._

"_THE LEAST YOU COULD GIVE ME IS A REASON!" he shouted. "WHAT HAPPENED? WHAT DID I DO WRONG? IS IT ANOTHER MAN? AM I TOO DUMB FOR YOU? NO-" Ron cut her off before Hermione could speak. "DON'T GIVE ME BULLSHIT ABOUT HOW IT'S YOU AND IT'S NOT ME. YOU OWE ME THIS MUCH, HERMIONE. A FUCKING ANSWER!" he yelled._

_Hermione continued to stare down at her hands. "Can we do this in private?"_

_Ron laughed once, a bitter laugh filled with hatred and disgust. "You made it this way. You brought me out here for a nice little dinner - what, did you think that was going to soften the blow?"_

_Hermione didn't respond. _Stupid, stupid, stupid Hermione, _she was repeating over and over in her head. _What was I thinking?

"_WELL?" Ron shouted. "IS THE WHOLE WIZARDING WORLD GOING TO KNOW BEFORE I DO? I'M WAITING!"_

"_This," Hermione gestured to him, hair in disarray and his red-face glowering in anger. "is why. Your temper, for one. You get angry over the smallest things-"_

"_Is this small to you?" Ron asked, suddenly quiet. "We - us, together… that's small to you?"_

The tears finally started to fall. She hadn't cried since dinner; her eyes were as dry as she was numb.

_Hermione finally looked up to meet his gaze. "Of course not, Ronald."_

"_Then why don't we work this out?" Ron asked pitifully. "Tell me what to do. Tell me how to fix us."_

"_You can't fix this, Ron," Hermione began crying, furiously scrubbing her face with her napkin and smudging her eyeliner. "You're jealous, you're insecure, you're angry, and whenever I have an opportunity to do something good for me, I always sacrifice it for you. You're unsupportive, you're ignorant, and you're selfish. When's the last time we talked about _my _work?"_

"_Just… yesterday…" he trailed off, realizing that their conversations had been solely about his job and his progress on Yaxley._

_Hermione looked at him pitifully. "I can't do this Ronald. We can't keep pretending that we fit together when we don't. You need someone who's family oriented-"_

"_I thought you were," Ron pointed out accusingly._

"_I am, but I think about my career, too," Hermione bit out frustratedly. "You need someone to dote on, or at least someone who appreciates that kind of attention. I don't. You need someone who's more focused on your children and you, rather than focusing on changing society. You need someone who can give you the constant attention that you deserve, but my attention is sometimes elsewhere. You need someone who's content with everything that you're content with. You need a certain type of wife. I'm not the wife you're looking for."_

"_So everything I've done… you don't care about it," Ron said stiffly. "Fine. You know what? I get it. I'm not good enough for you. Relationships are about working past the problems, since nobody's perfect. But I don't make the cut."_

"_Ron-" Hermione began._

"_I just genuinely hope that you find someone who does," Ron said angrily, before pushing back his seat, tossing a few galleons on the table, and stalking off._

Hermione shuddered, grabbing her wineglass and gulping down the rest.

**AN: Thank you all so much for the follows and reviews! I'm so excited by the response that I've been receiving, and I can't wait to get deeper into this with you all by my side! What do you think about Ron and Hermione's end of relationship? Does it seem reasonable? I didn't want to spend too much time pointing out their flaws, but I'm not sure how reasonable or believable this was. Let me know by dropping a review below!**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The wind swirled around her, decaying blossoms circling aimlessly on the concrete. She glanced up at Ginny and Harry's house, purchased with the large inheritance that Harry's parents had left him. It was nice house, smallish but tasteful. Hermione thought it suited them.

Wind blew the floating flower petals into her face as she walked up the path towards the door. She walked with purpose, but as soon as she reached the destination she hesitated. Hermione brushed her hair back since the wind had left it ruffled. She straightened her coat, and then her pants. She didn't really think Harry and Ginny would care what she looked like, but it was the only valid excuse she had to avoid pressing the doorbell. Finally she couldn't delay any longer. Hermione reached out a hand, took a deep breath, and pushed it. She listened anxiously as the bell reverberated around the house, the sound, enhanced by a spell, went to find someone who might open the door. From the sound of it, the someone was upstairs.

Hermione was just in process of trying to get yet another stray blossom out of her bushy hair when the door was pulled open to reveal her favorite ginger. Ginny smiled at her friend, who was standing rather awkwardly in the doorway. "Hey, Hermione," Ginny started. Hermione opened her mouth to say something, then turned and started walking back down the path. "Hermione!" Ginny called running after the other girl. Ginny stopped Hermione with a hand on the shoulder. "What's with you?"

"I…" Hermione started to cry. Ginny hugged her.

"What's wrong, Hermione? Tell me," Ginny said soothingly.

"I… I broke up with Ron," Hermione hiccuped. Ginny held her back and took a good look at her face.

"Good for you," Ginny said at last. When Hermione didn't say anything, Ginny started leading her into the house. "I'm glad you finally listened to me. Come on, I'll make tea, and you can tell me about it."

Hermione had barely shuffled through door when Harry appeared in the hallway. "Ginny," Harry began, a shocked looked on his face. "You didn't."

Ginny looked at him defiantly, still maneuvering Hermione towards the kitchen. "How could you?" Harry whispered behind them.

"They weren't right for each other," Ginny snapped, pushing Hermione down into a chair.

From the living room, the floo chimed. "Harry? Ginny?" Ron's scratchy voice echoed from the fireplace. They all froze, Hermione panicking the most.

"Fuck," Ginny muttered. She made to pull Hermione out of the kitchen, which was conjoined with the living room, but wasn't quick enough, and Ron froze in his tracks catching sight of Hermione's mascara stained face. Hermione slowly met his eyes, which instead of being filled with pain or anger, was simply the saddest emotion of all.

Defeat.

Harry grimaced as soon as he stepped in from the hallway and took in the situation. Harry and Ginny took one look at each other, nodded, and respectively grabbed Ron and Hermione by the arm to immediately apparate away.

Hermione was still numb when she and Ginny appeared on Bill and Fleur's doorstep at Shell Cottage. Ginny knocked on the door, looking back at Hermione concernedly.

"Ginny?" Bill asked confusedly when he opened the door. "What's going on?"

She motioned back to Hermione, who was staring out towards the sand dunes, trails of tears drying on her face. "They broke up," Ginny said simply.

Bill frowned, but knew better than to ask his burning questions. "Does she need a place to stay?"

"I think we'll stay here for tonight, if you, Victoire, and Fleur wouldn't mind?" Ginny asked.

"Vicky's asleep, but I'm sure she'd love to see her favorite aunties tomorrow morning. I'm sure Fleur wouldn't mind, as long as you don't get in her way when she's craving chipolatas. Pregnancy does weird things to women," Bill chuckled softly.

"Well, as I'm sure she's told you, it takes a lot to grow an entire human being inside of you," Ginny smirked. "I'm going to take Hermione out on a walk, but we'll be back within an hour."

Bill nodded. "I'll have some food ready. I'm sure she'll be hungry."

Ginny made her way back to Hermione, who still hadn't moved.

They stood there together, looking out onto the beach as the waves slowly lapped at the sand in a cold peacefulness.

"It's funny isn't it?" Hermione croaked after a while, her throat raw from sobs. "Nothing that happens to any of us really matters in the large scheme of things. The wind will keep on blowing, the grass will keep rattling, the sand pulled farther and farther into the water, coaxed by the careful tugging of the waves. It's all so meaningless. So… meaningless," Hermione trailed off. Ginny grabbed Hermione's cold, limp hand.

"Come," Ginny said softly, pulling them down the trail that led to the beach.

They walked like that for a while. Hand in hand, contemplating the detached and uncaring nature of the world. There was a certain iciness in the beauty of the stars overhead, twinkling without a care for the going-ons in the world that the night sky lay draped over like a shroud.

"I took your advice," Hermione said once they had walked a little over a kilometer. "I'm not right for Ron."

Ginny looked at Hermione, who was still barely present, eyes not really seeing the scenery in front of her. "And Ron's not right for you. You both deserve better."

"I love Ron," Hermione said suddenly. "I never stopped loving him. I never will."

Ginny looked at her sadly. "But because you love him, you need to let both of you have the chance to find someone else."

Hermione didn't answer for a while, drawing circles in the sand with her shoes.

"I know," she finally said, so softly that Ginny barely caught it. "I know."

Ginny nodded, dropping Hermione's hand as Hermione hugged herself. "It's just-" Hermione's voice broke.

"Just what?" Ginny prompted.

"How could this be good?" Hermione cried out. "How could… causing so much pain… did you see his eyes Ginny?" Hermione turned to her, eyes wide and spilling over. "So much pain… and I caused all of that. Me. How- how can this be right?"

"The right things don't come easily," Ginny reasoned. "You know that. More than anyone."

"I know but… I did that," Hermione grit out, tugging on her jumper. "I did that to him."

"No, Hermione," Ginny put her hand on Hermione's chin and forced Hermione to look her in the eye. "You are _not _the cause of that pain. You are exposing that pain - the pain that would have been there if you two had stayed together. You are ripping off the mask to give it a chance to heal properly by acknowledging the problems underneath the surface. Ron needs that. _You _need that.

"You two love each other. You'll bounce back from this - it'll just take time. You need to find out who you are, separate from Ron. Find yourself, Hermione," Ginny sighed, her voice breaking.

"It kills me, so much," Ginny said softly, her eyes beginning to water as well. "You and Ron, both such good, honest people, lost in the war and healing together. But you lost yourself on the road to recovering, Hermione. You… you haven't been Hermione Granger for a long time."

Hermione looked at Ginny questioningly. "What… what do you mean?"

"You and Ron were together day one after the war. And you have been ever since. You healed together, leaned on each other, so much to the point where you weren't Hermione Granger, and he wasn't Ronald Weasley. You two were Ron and Hermione. There was barely a way to distinguish between the two of you. You thought the same thoughts, you wanted the same things… I missed you Hermione. You always had to check with Ron about every little decision. You really couldn't live without each other.

"At first, I thought that's what love was supposed to be about. To really become one person. I envied that. I looked at myself and how frustrated I was that Harry still didn't reach out to me after a month. Three months. Almost a year. I thought… I thought that healing together, the way you and Ron did, was what Harry and I should have had. But I was wrong.

"Because when Harry finally did come around, he wasn't holding all of that baggage. Our relationship wasn't built upon crying over Fred, or mourning the loss of Colin Creevey. We started fresh. We started anew. Our conversations weren't about Voldemort or what had happened while you were hunting horcruxes or how we were being tortured at Hogwarts. He had finally left the past in the past, and he helped me see that, too. And that's why we work.

"But you and Ron," Ginny shook her head. "You never decided anything without each other. And yes, most of the time, that worked out. But then you started to suffer. He started to suffer. It didn't work. You need to be your own person, Hermione. You don't need to be Ron's other half. Hermione Granger is _more _than enough. If someone can't see that and can't love Hermione Granger for who she is, then you need to get out."

Hermione looked at Ginny solemnly. "I don't even know who I am anymore."

"You are Hermione Granger. You get to decide who you are. And that's what this is about. Choosing to be who _you _want to be," Ginny informed her.

"I think I'm going to take the job," Hermione said suddenly. "I'd love to go to Italy. I'd love to build bridges between the Italian and British ministries. I think this will be intellectually, socially, and personally stimulating. It's meaningful… to me at least."

"If it means something to you, then it's meaningful," Ginny snapped, saddened by how much of Ron's approval Hermione had hung onto for the last years.

"It's meaningful," Hermione smiled sadly. "Come on, let's get some food."

"I'm proud of you," Ginny smiled. There was a small flash of the old Hermione - making a decision rather than questioning if Ron would like to eat as well. It was just the beginning of a new road to recovery.

When they returned to Shell Cottage, Fleur had set up an enormous plate of seafood for both Hermione and Ginny, neither of them missing the obvious reference to other, better fish in the sea. Fleur tutted over Hermione's disheveled appearance.

"See what zis boy did to you?" Fleur muttered under her breath, her English having improved over the years, but her accent still heavy. "Never beleeved Ronald was mature enough to handle ze likes of an eentelligent woman like you. He ees still just a boy. No man would ever treat his woman in ze abhorrent manner he did." Fleur made no effort to hide her disapproval of Ron's attitude and behavior. "You should get een touch with Viktor. He ees still single, and asks after you ofteen."

Bill merely sighed. "What I don't understand, Hermione, is why you stuck with him even though he abandoned you and Harry." Bill looked at her strangely. "He's constantly leaving you. You should've seen that red flag a mile away."

"What?" Ginny asked quietly, deadly tension filling up the room. Bill cursed quietly under his breath, he had promised Ron that none of his other family members would ever find out about his moment of betrayal. "Ron abandoned you and Harry? On the hunt for horcruxes?" Ginny guessed, fuming. When no one said otherwise, Ginny let out a string of curse words that the young parents were glad Victoire was not awake to hear.

Hermione winced. "He was under the influence of the locket at the time -"

"Don't make excuses for him," Ginny snapped, cutting Hermione off. "You and Harry were under the locket's influence at times, too, right?"

Hermione merely nodded. "And you never abandoned Harry? And he never abandoned you?"

"No," Hermione confirmed.

"Then what in Merlin's name gives Ron the right and the excuse to leave you two to fend for yourselves?" Ginny's voice began to rise.

"Ginny, we are all allowed a few moments of weakness as human beings," Hermione appeased.

"All I hear is excuse after excuse!" Ginny hissed so as not to wake Victoire. "What would he have to do for it to be a deal breaker for you? Would he have to cheat on you again? Or would you still make up some bullshit rationalization? Would he have to murder someone to get you to wake up? Since when did you lose all of your self-respect and conviction? What happened to your rational mind?"

Hermione stood up, determined to prove Ginny that she was still her old self. "Don't wait for me, I'm going to the Ministry to secure my job," Hermione said curtly, about to head towards the Floo.

"Hermione, stop," Fleur blocked her before ushering her upstairs. "Ze Ministry ees not open yet - it ees practically midnight! Rest tonight, zecure your position tomorrow!"

* * *

Hermione walked down the long hallways to Kingsley's office, paranoid that she might run into Ron or Harry as she passed the Aurors' offices. Luckily, she faced no mishaps, and was entering his office before any other wizard or witch could spot her near her ex's department.

"Good morning, Hermione," Kingsley's voice rumbled as she sat down across from him.

"Good morning," she returned awkwardly as she noticed the various publications on his desk. _Witch Weekly_'s headline screamed _SPLIT OF THE CENTURY: Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley Call Off Engagement As Quickly As Harry Potter's Lightning Scar! _alongside the _Prophet_'s _DARLING DUO DESTROYED!_

Kingsley traced her line of sight to the gossip rags, and promptly set them on fire. Hermione jumped back, startled, but then smiled appreciatively at him. "Thanks," Hermione said softly.

"I would offer my condolences, but I expect a better way to look at the situation is with congratulations," Kingsley smiled, waving his wand so that a bottle of fine nettle wine appeared next to her, as a gift. "Congratulations on your newfound freedom, Hermione. And should I be so uncouth as to say… 'Good riddance!'"

Hermione smiled sadly, but before she could say anything, Kingsley continued. "Now, I expect you're bringing me news about a certain job position?"

"Yes, actually," Hermione smiled, relieved in the change of subject to professional matters. "I've decided to take on the job."

Kingsley let out an audible breath of relief. "Thank Merlin, you've saved us all," Kingsley smiled.

"So, when do I start?" Hermione asked.

"Technically, you could start next week-" Hermione began to say she'd be ready, but Kingsley held up a hand. "Let me finish."

Hermione held her tongue.

"Given the recent developments in your personal life, I suggest you wrap things up with your current job, hand in your notice, and take a week off to vacation. Goodness knows you already have enough stress as it is, and I can guarantee you that ending a job and starting another is quite unnecessary tension to deal with right now. I will inform Mr. Zabini and Mr. Malfoy that you'll have your answer to them within a week, but that in light of recent events, it will take you a little longer to decide. In the mean time, I'd like for you to brainstorm potential science consultants that you believe might be able to work with the three of you. Or, if you don't believe you need a science advisor, then perhaps prepare reasons why one would be unnecessary so you can discuss it with your two co-workers when you get back."

Hermione waited until she was sure Kingsley was done, and then agreed. "Thank you for being so thoughtful, Kingsley."

"Oh Hermione, of all the people in this Ministry who deserve to be thought of, it's you." Kingsley smiled good-naturedly.

* * *

Ginny looked up as Harry walked through the front door heavily. She heard his familiar stomping to get the mud off of his shoes, always forgetting that he could just scourgify his boots, rather than shake it off the muggle way.

"Long day at work?" she called as he entered the living area, where she was writing down a few notes for her growing role at the _Prophet _as a sports columnist.

"Yeah," Harry mumbled, and she frowned. Typically, Harry at least made an effort to inform her of the mundaneness of the day, even if nothing else really happened.

"There's some food left on the table," Ginny informed him, and Harry merely nodded, mumbling a 'thanks' so quiet she barely caught it.

She heard Harry's chair scrape the floor as he sat down. Silence, beyond his slow clinking of silverware, was paramount. Ginny got up from her armchair and made her way to the kitchen, eying Harry carefully. He kept his eyes downcast, altogether too focused on his meal.

"What gives, Harry?" Ginny's voice broke the silence, and he jumped a little, startled.

"Er, nothing Gin," Harry muttered. "I'm just tired."

"Bat spleens," Ginny called him out as she took the chair opposite him. "I've seen you come back from fighting over thirty ex-Death Eaters, and you were never this sullen," Ginny pointed out. "What's going on?"

Harry sighed, pushing his food away from him and fidgeting with his glasses. He scooched his chair back a little, looking everywhere but directly at her.

Ginny's heart crept up in her throat. She knew the signs.

"You're… you're breaking up with me," Ginny croaked softly.

Harry flinched, but didn't deny it. The silence stretched between them.

"Why?" Ginny asked softly, when she worked up the courage to finally voice one of the thousands of questions crowding her mind.

Harry cleared his throat. "I…" he seemed to struggle with his words. "You know, with Ron and Hermione-"

"What do they have anything to do with us?" Ginny asked, confused.

"You… you broke them up," Harry said softly.

Ginny suddenly understood. "Technically, I didn't."

"But you talked to Hermione…" Harry trailed off.

"That's all I did. Talk to her."

"You definitely pushed her to break up with Ron. Don't you see them Gin? They're miserable."

"I may have voiced my opinion, but it was ultimately Hermione's choice and Hermione's choice only," Ginny snapped. "They might be miserable now, but they're better off than being miserable with three children and ten years of suffering in their marriage."

"But how do you know for sure that they wouldn't have had an amazing marriage?" Harry queried. "You can't know the future… they might have worked out some of the bumps along the way and become stronger because of it. Now they'll never have the chance," Harry accused.

"If they're really meant for each other, they'll be back together before the end of the month," Ginny pointed out. "They do love each other, Harry, but they fight all the time and can barely compromise on their wedding date, for Merlin's sake! He's never going to approve of her career ambitions, and she's already tired of his lack of motivation. He wants a stay-at-home wife, and she wants to run for Minister of Magic. If they can't even figure out how long their engagement is going to last, how do you expect they'll be able to figure the big problems later? Finances? Children? Education?" Ginny pointed out vehemently.

"It was still none of your business to meddle," Harry said softly.

"Of course it was! He's my brother, and she's one of my best friends. I couldn't stand by and watch them make such a huge mistake. Real friends watch each others' backs, and even if there's pain involved, if it's in their best interest, you do whatever you have to do," Ginny countered passionately.

"I just… I just can't agree," Harry said sadly. "I don't think you should have pushed Hermione to break up with him. I think you should have encouraged her to keep at it, because none of us are perfect, Gin."

"She deserves better than a selfish, unkind, insensitive, cheating arse," Ginny's voice rang out loud in the emptiness of the rest of their house. Harry looked at Ginny, shocked.

"Ron never cheated on Hermione," Harry defended his friend. "They were on break!"

"Hermione never agreed to an open relationship!" Ginny shrieked. "They needed time to cool down, not date and screw other people behind each others' backs!"

"How could you say such nasty things about your brother?" Harry was completely taken aback, shaking his head. "How could you do something so cruel to both Hermione and Ron? Even if you had the very best intentions in mind, it still wasn't your relationship! You had no right!"

Ginny knew Harry too well. And she knew that he had already made up his mind, and he wouldn't be changing it for a long time. She stood up suddenly.

"I get it Harry. You can't look at me anymore and not see the woman who broke your best friends up. You just can't live with it. Can't live with me," Ginny clarified for him. He tried to protest, but it was feeble, at best.

Ginny held up a hand, and Harry ceased to talk. "Look, I'll have all my stuff out of your house tomorrow morning. I'll sleep on the couch tonight."

"No," Harry interjected. "You sleep on the bed, I'll take the couch. You can have the house Gin, I still have Grimmauld-"

"It was your parents' money," Ginny rebutted. "You own this place. And don't try to protest, or no one will be using this house, and it'll collect dust. Just… let me have some control over this last part, all right?"

"Okay," Harry acknowledged that that was the least he could do for her now.

By the next morning, Ginny had already shrunken down her possessions and stored them in her pockets. Harry stumbled sleepily into the kitchen, his hair an utter disarray as he blinked at her fully dressed, ready to leave figure.

He frowned. "Ginny… maybe you shouldn't leave. I think we can work this out."

Ginny shook her head. "You made your mind up yesterday. Let's just… part ways while we can mutually agree to move on. Don't make this any harder than it is."

Harry nodded, looking like he was regretting everything he said last night. Ginny sighed, approaching him to hug him. As his arms wrapped around her, she inhaled his scent. It was so familiar, his smell enveloping her senses and his strong arms holding her close. But it was the end.

She kissed him lightly on the cheek and moved towards the Floo. She had already sent word to Hermione that she needed a place to stay for a while, and Hermione was more than happy to have some non-judgemental company. Ginny turned suddenly to Harry.

"Just…" Ginny bit her lip. "Just let me know if you ever change your mind, you know? That you'll be able to see me again for me, rather than the wedge between Ron and Hermione."

Harry nodded silently. He seemed to be doing that a lot, recently. Before Ginny could convince herself otherwise, she threw down the Floo Powder, disappearing to Hermione's flat in a whirl of green flames.

* * *

The term "media circus" was a drastic understatement once word of Harry and Ginny's break up got out. Both darling duos destroyed in less than a weekend? The rumor mills were churning out one ridiculous tale after another, growing more and more elaborate with each variation.

Hermione snorted as she looked at the _Witch Weekly_'s "insider" quote, an anonymous source claiming that Hermione and Harry had had an affair, breaking up the two couples. Anyone who knew Harry and Hermione would have cringed. That was like incest.

But even incest didn't stop the most tacky of rumors - another gossip rag, _WonderWitch_, claimed that _Ginny _and _Ron _ had had the affair! Hermione gagged, barely keeping in the contents of her stomach.

The day that Hermione gave Louis her one week notice, he actually smiled. Hermione was taken aback, had she really been that horrible of an employee?

"Congratulations on your new position, Hermione," Louis said genuinely, shocking Hermione to the core. "I have no doubt that your dedication, compassion, and intelligence will serve you and the entirety of Italy and Britain very well." Well, maybe he didn't have a horrible opinion of her. Another thought occurred to Hermione.

"This isn't your way of commenting on my disengagement from Ron, is it?" Hermione asked suspiciously. "Though I have to admit, it's rather a roundabout way, which is totally uncharacteristic of you."

Louis smiled slightly, a twinkle in his eye. "I believe, if I wanted to comment about your personal life, all I'd have to do is step out the door," he motioned to the entrance to their department offices, where hundreds of reporters were attempting to find ways to evade the magical wards that had been set up. Hermione had laughed wholeheartedly. At least she now knew that Louis had a sense of humor, after all this time. Perhaps there was a silver lining.

* * *

Hermione peeked her head around the corner of the hallway and living room, hearing Ginny opening and closing the front door to Hermione's flat. Hermione laughed at Ginny's unusually disheveled appearance, hair slick with sweat and clinging to her face from Quidditch practice.

"How was practice?" Hermione grinned.

"Painful," Ginny gritted as she stored her Hawkhaste broom in Hermione's closet, her right shoulder and hips aching. "I'm taking some time off this week to clear my head. I couldn't focus well today."

Hermione made a noise of agreement. Things hadn't been the same after suddenly removing someone who had been such a large part of their lives and daily routines. The insane media coverage and downright harassment also didn't help.

"It kind of feels all like a bad dream, you know?" Hermione asked quietly, and Ginny nodded emphatically as they walked towards the living room, where Nessa was waiting patiently. "As if we're about to wake up soon and everything will be back to normal."

"I know," Ginny affirmed. "I felt like I needed a break from everything, so I decided to take a week off of vacation time. Perhaps that'll get the reporters off of the Harpies' and my back. I'm sick of it all."

"Well, since Hermione's taking the week off as well, and I have leftover vacation time, I say we ought to treat ourselves to a wonderful spa weekend," Nessa suggested with a grin.

Ginny grinned. "Do you have a certain place in mind?"

"Only the best for Nessa Sterling's friends," Nessa laughed.

"I don't know… I ought to start preparing for my move to Italy, as well as researching potential science consultant candidates-" Hermione began, but Ginny cut her off.

"Honestly Hermione, when is the last time you've had a break? It's been ages - let's do something fun, just with the three of us." Ginny raised an eyebrow as Hermione's expression appeared that she was unconvinced.

"Look, Hermione, if you don't recharge, you're not going to do your job as well when you start. And you _know_ how important first impressions are," Ginny smiled as Hermione sighed, conceding.

Nessa clapped her hands together excitedly. "We're going to France, girls!"

**AN: Hello! Finals are over, which means more time for fanfiction! Thanks for the kind and helpful reviews - it was good to hear that Romione's end was believable and justified. Another couple that I am just so-so on is Hinny... I felt like their relationship was somewhat right but somewhat wrong. I've always had the nagging feeling that if Harry wasn't "Harry Potter," that Ginny wouldn't have been so interested in him. I think it works, to an extent, but I decided to experiment with splitting them up, this time around. What do you guys think? Please drop a review!  
**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"Relax!" Hermione's masseuse hissed as she worked on yet another knot on Hermione neck. Hermione groaned - the slow and slightly painful therapy only highlighted her physical manifestations of stress from her strained relationship with Ron. The bumps in her neck and shoulders were borderline ridiculous.

"Come on, Hermione. The point of this is to relax, not stress over the fact that you should be researching science advisors," Nessa admonished, moaning slightly as her masseuse kneaded her lower back. The reminder, however, had Hermione tensing up even tighter. Hermione's masseuse let out a frustrated hiss.

"Please be patient with my friend," Ginny said amused from Hermione's left, opposite of Nessa. She broke off with a slightly pained yelp when her massage therapist found a particularly sore spot. "As you can see, she really needed this."

Hermione's masseuse swore quietly in French, but also let off on some of the pressure she had been applying on Hermione's shoulder, allowing Hermione to breathe a little better.

Hermione's eyes fluttered shut, momentarily, but when she reopened them, she tensed immediately as she processed who else was entering the massage table rooms. There was a face she had thought she'd never have to see again.

Pansy Parkinson.

Hermione's masseuse let out a string of curse words at Hermione's tensing shoulders, which caught Parkinson's attention. Seeing Hermione, alongside Vanessa Sterling and the she-weasel, Parkinson lifted her nose into the air as she made her way over.

"Well if it isn't the two most popular _single_ witches in all of Britain," she sneered at Hermione and Ginny. "I'm surprised that you aren't soaking up your revived fame."

Nessa looked up to see Pansy and Astoria Greengrass taking close behind. Astoria's lips were slightly pursed, annoyed by Pansy's inability to leave well enough alone. "Hello, Pansy," Nessa smiled fakely. "I would say it's lovely to see you..." Nessa smugly let the rest of her thought hang in implication.

"Vanessa," Pansy sniffed. Although irritated by Pansy's presence, it fascinated Hermione that Nessa was able to so smoothly transition into the subtle game of the wizarding aristocracy's underhanded jabs.

"It's wonderful to run into you, Astoria," Nessa smiled softly at the brunette, whose ensemble was beautifully classy and elegant. She was far overdressed for attending a spa, no matter how fancy it was.

Astoria, tight lipped and in full knowledge of the confidence she exuded, merely inclined her head towards Nessa politely.

"What brings you here to _La Rivière_?" Nessa inquired.

"A celebration," Pansy informed them haughtily. "Astoria's family has begun its negotiations with Draco's family for formal courtship. It will be a strong union."

"Draco, as in Malfoy?" Hermione finally spoke up.

"Of course," Pansy sneered. "How many other Dracos do you know?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow and shrugged. Parkinson wouldn't be able about get to her.

Pansy sighed suddenly. "I suppose I should be nice to you. After all, Blaise wouldn't be happy with me if I were the reason you didn't take the job." Pansy extended a perfectly manicured hand. "I apologize, may we start over?"

Hermione frowned at Pansy's hand, incredibly confused. Her masseuse had just about given up trying to get Hermione to breathe deeply and let go. "Why would you affect my decision about taking on an advisory position to Zabini?"

"Because we're dating, and I'll be living with you if you come with us to Italy," Pansy explained impatiently, her hand still extended. Hermione suppressed the desire to gag. Not only did she have to deal with Malfoy and Zabini, but Parkinson too? Hermione didn't know if she could survive in the den of snakes, but took Pansy's hand anyways. She had already committed to the job, so she would do almost anything to make it less painful. Pansy looked slightly taken aback at Hermione's lack of additional questioning.

"Will you be accompanying us, as well?" Hermione directed towards Astoria. Astoria's eyes flashed, and Hermione froze, unsure about what she had said to offend her.

"It is improper for a couple in courtship to house together," Astoria said tightly, looking scandalized.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to insinuate anything," Hermione backtracked, trying to not get on Astoria's bad side. It appeared to be too late, as the brunette simply glared once more at Hermione before stalking off to another part of the spa.

"See, I no longer have anything against your blood status, Granger," Pansy began, and Ginny gave a strangled noise. "It's simply because you're ignorant," Pansy scoffed, following Astoria shortly.

Hermione frowned, looking at Nessa, who shrugged. "Are they always like that? Even to each other?" Hermione asked wide-eyed.

Nessa shrugged again. "Depends. For families they don't respect, they don't even acknowledge your existence. For families they hate, they passively make life a living Hell. For acquaintances, they are dismissive but civil. For allies, they are business-like and serious. For friends, they are respectful, loyal, and kind. For family, even more so. But they're never friendly, so don't ever expect that."

"It all just gives me a headache," Ginny commented, dismissing the ridiculousness and complexity. Nessa sighed, shaking her head.

"You're not used to it. Everything is always out there in the open with you Gryffindors." Ginny raised an eyebrow, so Vanessa clarified. "I'm not saying that openness and acceptance is a bad thing, but you subsequently never learn the art of subtlety-" Hermione stiffened slightly at the familiar words "- which is necessary for you to work well with certain social circles. You can't expect others to be as accepting and courageous in vocalizing who they are and what they believe in as you," Nessa pointed out wisely.

Hermione contemplated Nessa's words, while Ginny let out a soft snort. "I don't like games," Ginny said simply. "Besides Quidditch," she clarified at Hermione's look of disbelief. "I don't like games where the rules aren't stated clearly, because it's not a level playing field."

"I get that, Ginny, I do," Nessa nodded. "But you have to realize you're choosing to take yourself out of the pureblood and aristocratic social circles."

"They're not my people," Ginny said firmly. "They may not be all bad, but they'll never understand me, and I'll never understand them. We're bred different. I'm not saying one is better than the other, but I'm content to leave their world undisturbed as long as they leave mine alone, too."

Nessa simply shrugged. "I can respect that." She looked at Hermione expectantly, who was still forming her thoughts.

"It's a culture, isn't it?" Hermione asked softly. Nessa nodded. "I understand what Ginny means by the idea that they're a different breed of people, but they still _are _people, aren't they? Why shouldn't we attempt to understand them? There aren't many of us magical folk in the world, and we ought to be bonded by our shared experiences and gifts of magic, rather than divided by it."

"Attempt is the key word there," Ginny pointed out. "Look Hermione, people like us? We'll never fit into that world. We don't value the same things as them. They don't value the same things as us. To them, our ignorance of their traditions is at best innocence, at worst stupidity and intentional rudeness. To us, their customs are downright patronizing, old-fashioned, and bigoted. We're oil and water. We don't mix."

Nessa shifted uncomfortably, and her masseuse pushed her down a bit to get her to relax. "Would you really say that about me, Ginny?" Nessa asked bluntly.

"Frankly, you're weird," Ginny said without hesitation. "It doesn't bother you that we're ignorant, and your priorities are very much aligned with ours. How many people in your family or your family's social circles would you say match up with you well?"

Nessa tilted her head. Ginny did have a point, there.

"I just find this blood-oriented class system very irritating," Hermione sighed. "And I would like to be part of the building of bridges between our very different worlds."

Nessa smiled at Hermione. "Well, why don't you take a look at us? I'd say we're building those bridges already."

* * *

Their one week vacation went by altogether too quickly, and before she knew it, Hermione was walking to the Department of International Magical Cooperation to meet her new co-workers.

She entered through the double doors and was presented with three different hallways. One was labelled "International Magical Trading Standards," another "International Magical Office of Law," and the last "International Confederation of Wizards, British Division." Hermione glanced around until she found an administrator, whose name plate displayed "Ashley Breckenridge" in bronze lettering.

"Miss Breckenridge?" Hermione asked, walking to the counter.

"Yes?" Ashley glanced up, eyes widening. "Oh, Miss Granger!"

"Hi," Hermione smiled politely. "I was wondering if you could direct me towards Blaise Zabini's office?"

Instantly, Ashley's eyes darkened. "Oh." Ashley paused. "His office is number 543, down the last hallway." Ashley gestured to the one labelled "International Confederation of Wizards, British Division."

"Thank you," Hermione smiled again. "I hope you have a good day."

Ashley didn't respond, returning to her paperwork. Confusedly, Hermione turned away from the drastic shift in mood she had just observed. Shaking it off, she strode down the hallway until she found a door named Blaise Zabini, which, she noted, was situated next to two of the four British representatives in the International Confederation of Wizards - namely Raven Bloxam and Otger Lunderphoff. Taking a deep breath, she knocked twice.

"Coming!" she heard a muffled voice through the door, and a second later, Blaise Zabini opened the door.

"Hermione!" he greeted jovially, smiling grandly as he let her in. She smiled at Blaise, and then nodded politely towards Draco Malfoy, who was lounging in one of Blaise's luxurious black leather seats. Blaise's office was enormous, to the say the least. Charcoal grey curtains draped over incredibly large windows overlooking the atrium below, matching the grey couch that was positioned behind a coffee table. The pure white tile floor contrasted with other black chairs surrounding the coffee table, all in front of Blaise's desk.

"Granger," Malfoy acknowledged. "It's good to see you."

"Likewise, Malfoy," Hermione nodded, taking the other seat next to Malfoy as Blaise sat behind his desk across from them. There was an awkward pause before Blaise began speaking, leaning back in his chair.

"I'm surprised," he stated smoothly.

"About what?" Hermione asked.

"Pansy had me slightly worried when she mentioned how she had run into you at the spa, and you seemed less than inclined to work with us," Blaise said slowly.

"Oh, I'm not sure where she got that impression," Hermione said truthfully. "I'd already decided to work with you by the time I ran into her - I was merely taking some time off to make sure that I was making the right decision."

"Well, I'm pleased you decided this is the place for you," Blaise smiled.

"Also, congratulations," Hermione turned to Malfoy, who looked at her curiously. "Pansy informed me that you and Astoria are in the process of an engagement," Hermione bit her lip a little, not sure if that was exactly what Pansy had meant by the coordination of a strong union and or courtship.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Oh really?" he asked. Hermione couldn't tell if he was upset at the fact that private news had been leaked, if he was attempting to joke about his ignorance in the matter, or if he actually was surprised by the news. Hermione coughed awkwardly, glancing at Blaise, who was frowning.

"At least… that was what they informed me of," Hermione replied softly.

"There is no such engagement, as you have termed it," Malfoy replied tonelessly without further explanation.

"My mistake," Hermione said, uncrossing and crossing her legs. There was another long pause. Hermione was getting sick of all this dancing around.

"Shall we discuss who we want for our scientific advisor?" Blaise asked, pulling out a few files. Hermione nodded, and Malfoy did as well. Blaise raised an eyebrow at Malfoy, appearing to plead for some assistance in keeping the conversation alive. Malfoy didn't acknowledge the hint.

"Okay, I'll start off with my list of potential candidates-"

"Oh forget it," Hermione said frustratedly, and the two Slytherins looked at her oddly. "No, not about the scientific advisor, we need to discuss that, but I happen to be the type of person who cannot stand unresolved issues that are suffocating us and our ability to work together. Can we just all have it out with each other and iron it all out before getting down to business?"

Malfoy looked bored, refusing to indicate his opinion on the matter, but Blaise shrugged. "That sounds reasonable, don't you think?" Blaise asked Malfoy pointedly.

"If Granger needs to get something off her chest so we can work with her, why not?" Malfoy stated uninterestedly.

"I'll go first," Blaise volunteered. "Hermione, I have always been jealous of your incredible work ethic and intelligence, especially when you received the _Dux Litterarum _title. Although I didn't have any real positive or negative interactions with you in school, I'm glad that we now have the chance to reconnect and work together to benefit our society."

"Thank you for that, Blaise," Hermione gave him a small smile. "Like you said, we never really interacted during our Hogwarts years, and I'm glad I'll be able to get to know you better this time around." Blaise nodded, and she turned to Malfoy, pausing.

"I honestly don't know where to begin with you, Malfoy," she sighed, and Malfoy remained stoic. "I have to say that I'm pleased by the new developments in maintaining a civil relationship, but it will take me a long time to look past our history. I never understood why you hated me so. At first, if Harry and Ron weren't around, you never gave me a second glance. It was all for show. But something changed, fourth year. You were cruel, with or without an audience. You were pretentious, condescending, and manipulative. Cowardly, disloyal-"

"Call me anything you want, but don't _ever _call me _disloyal_!" Malfoy snapped losing his calm facade and springing to his feet. "You have _no inkling _of the pain and suffering I witnessed, caused, and experienced first hand to save _my parents._ Perhaps family means nothing to your orphaned _golden boy_, the freckled _weasel _who has too much family to go around, or whatever dysfunctional muggle parents you have-"

Hermione's eyes flashed, and she stood up and jabbed him in the chest, refusing to let him tower over her. "I WIPED MY PARENTS' MEMORIES AND SENT THEM TO AUSTRALIA SO THEY COULD BE SAFE, AND WHEN I FINALLY RESTORED THEIR MEMORIES, THEY -" Hermione suddenly broke off, her anger deflating so quickly that she fell back into her chair, sobs wracking her body. Blaise looked towards Draco angrily, communicating that Draco had better apologize now or incur Blaise's wrath later.

Draco stiffly raised an eyebrow. Malfoys never apologize.

Blaise glared at Draco as Blaise took it upon himself to kneel down to Hermione's level, comforting her. Draco sniffed as he looked on, slightly disturbed by how such a fiery Gryffindor could be reduced to such a weak state with a few sentences. What happened to all of Granger's pure concentrated ire and passion? The lioness looked tiny. Draco then knew that almost anyone could destroy her pathetic soul if they just dug deep enough. It was disappointing, really, that the person who seemed so unbreakable was perhaps even more fragile than his mother's finest china set.

After all, magic couldn't fix a broken soul.

Draco was pulled back to the present when Blaise pulled her hands away from her arms, holding them gently as he apologized for making her feel uncomfortable.

"No," Hermione sniffled, and Draco squashed the tiny part of him that felt hope when a bit of her previous steel leaked through that one word. "That was the point. We need everything in the open."

Draco couldn't help but snort at that, and Blaise glared at him. Draco could handle Blaise's glare… but Granger's watery gaze should not have affected him as much as it did.

"You want it all out?" Draco scoffed, and Granger took to answering his question literally with a nod. Draco shook his head and strode to the window, his back to Granger and Blaise, still crouched down and patting her hand.

"You represented everything I was raised to hate. Muggleborn, ignorant, unrefined, lower class, Gryffindor," Draco laughed cynically. "Merlin, you fit the bill too well. But then you didn't." Draco turned around and faced Granger, meeting her brown eyes that shone with a hint of determination.

"You were _fucking brilliant_," Draco snapped. "You beat me at every _fucking _subject. It didn't matter that I had everything already going for me - pureblood, rich, the best wand, the best tutors, the best breeding, the motivation, the ambition - you, the ignorant, supposedly stupid muggleborn, came out of _nowhere _and placed me in second in every _fucking _thing you ever did. You were the only infuriating contradiction to my entire paradigm, and I took it out on you. You could never imagine the _ways _my father loved to punish me for my lackluster performance," Draco sneered.

"And to top it all off, you showed me in fourth year that you _weren't _unrefined or lower class," Draco snarled. "You were fucking beautiful, handling yourself with such sophistication and grace that ninety-percent of _pureblood girls_ couldn't even _attempt _to imitate. I couldn't stand you. It was either you, or my family and their ideals." Draco whipped around to face the window again, unable to stand her widening eyes.

"And you chose your family," Granger whispered.

Draco jerkily nodded, before becoming silent. There was a long pause before Draco spoke up again.

"I know now that those prejudices were simply old traditions that are no longer applicable to our society," Draco said stiffly. "And I can't resent you for showing me the outdated principles of my family. I respect you, Granger. That should be enough."

Granger nodded. "I understand and empathize with your upbringing and your dedication to your family. I am sorry for accusing you of being disloyal." Draco nodded his head, accepting her apology.

"And I suppose we do have something in common, anyways," Draco turned again back to Granger and Blaise, who was now sitting on the other chair solemnly.

"What's that?" Granger asked skeptically, meeting his intense grey eyes.

Draco's mouth twisted sourly as he spoke.

"We'd do anything humanly possible to guarantee our parents' safeties."

* * *

The three decided that the day's potential had been fully exhausted and planned to reconvene the next day to truly get down to business. Hermione apparated back to her flat, surprising Ginny, who was hunched over various wizarding photos of the Chudley Cannons versus Puddlemere United game as she scribbled notes about Oliver Wood's latest innovative move. Slowly but surely, Ginny's role as sports correspondent was growing, and she was beginning to enjoy analyzing others' techniques more than getting sweaty trying to train her own.

"I thought you wouldn't be back so soon?" Ginny asked poker-faced.

Hermione was taken aback a little by the oddly emotionless appearance her friend was creating. "We ironed out some emotional issues, but tomorrow we'll get back to work after taking a break from each other," Hermione explained.

"Oh good," Ginny breathed. "I was worried that I was going to have to testify at your trial that you were really here, home, with me, when Malfoy was murdered, or that you'd just been fired for being too smart for the Slytherins," Ginny smiled cheerfully.

"No," Hermione chuckled softly. "Nothing quite so dramatic as that."

"So… what _did _you talk about?" Ginny grinned.

"Well, Blaise and I don't know much about each other beyond the fact that we were competitors for top rank at Hogwarts, so we didn't have much to discuss. Malfoy, on the other hand…" Hermione trailed off, shaking her head. "I chewed him out, to be frank, but went over the line."

Ginny coughed awkwardly. "What's 'over the line' for Malfoy? What line hasn't _he _crossed?"

Hermione shrugged, figuring that Ginny had a decent point. "He snapped when I said he was disloyal."

"Ah," Ginny nodded, understanding. "I suppose that's one of the few things the ferret doesn't lack. Loyalty, though… to a fault."

Hermione smiled ruefully. "Well, needless to say, he called me out on it, and snapped at me, saying some fairly despicable things about Harry, Ron, and my family…"

"Oh, sweetie," Ginny sighed concernedly. "We're your family, you know that, right?"

Hermione's mouth twisted slightly, but nodded. "I know… but they're my family, too."

Ginny could only hug her, rubbing circles on her back.

"So did you yell at Malfoy?" Ginny asked wryly, attempting to lighten the mood.

Hermione smiled slightly, still somber. "Indeed, but there may have been tears involved. I hated showing him that weakness… it's just…"

"Caring for your family and feeling abandoned is _not _a weakness," Ginny told her firmly. "If he can't see that for himself, given his history… well let's just say there's not much upstairs."

Hermione finally let loose a giggle.

"I still think you're insane for trying to work with them, even if it's a fantastic opportunity," Ginny sighed.

"I get to live in Italy, Ginny, how much better can you get than that?" Hermione smiled ruefully as she made her way into the kitchen to fix a light snack.

"So when are you leaving, again?" Ginny asked with a tone of sadness in her voice.

"Not for another two weeks. I'll only be gone for six months, and then I'll be back. Of course, it'll only be for a little bit before I start travelling between England and Italy permanently, but I promise you I won't leave you," Hermione said comfortingly.

"Do you want me to keep your flat for you?" Ginny wondered.

"Actually that would be perfect!" Hermione smiled. "You could live here until you decide that you want a place of your own, what with… Harry and all…" Hermione trailed off. She cleared her throat before continuing. "Plus, there's no one else I'd trust to not explode my flat," Hermione laughed.

"I'll pay rent and everything," Ginny promised.

"Oh no, you don't have to-" Hermione protested.

"No, I'm subletting from you, and I will pay the rent as I'm supposed to," Ginny said firmly.

"But-"

"No buts!" Ginny waved her wand menacingly at Hermione.

Hermione frowned and crossed her arms, but eventually relented. Ginny beamed when she saw Hermione's resolve crumbling, knowing that the threat of a nasty bat-bogey hex would be worse than letting Ginny pay for an apartment that she'd be renting anyways if Hermione fully moved out. Ginny grabbed Hermione's arm suddenly, dragging her to the Floo.

"Now I know you have a terribly lacking wardrobe normally, Hermione, but it's simply dreadful in regards to having appropriate wear for Mediterranean weather," Ginny commented as she grabbed a handful of Floo powder and shoved it into Hermione's fist. "Especially for summer. I'll meet you at Madam Malkin's. I have to drop off a copy of my article at _The Daily Prophet_ first."

"But I don't have my purse-" Hermione protested, until Ginny waved her hand dismissively.

"I'm covering it. Go!"

Hermione merely shook her head before doing as Ginny asked, or rather, demanded.

**AN: Hello everyone! School is out, so let the heavy writing begin! Warning, updates are going to be a little bit slower since I've pretty much caught up to posting a chapter just before the one I'm currently writing, but hopefully I'll be writing quickly enough to keep it up to approximately a new chapter a week. Thanks as always to the favoriters, followers, and reviewers! To Guest #1: Ginny is definitely going to be a much stronger person than we saw in the movies and possibly even the books, so I'm glad you saw what I was aiming for. Although we might not see Ginny and Hermione be the absolute best of friends, they're there for each other if the need arises. I'm not sure how much Ginny we'll see once Hermione moves to Italy, but she'll definitely get some airtime. We've just seen a little glimpse of the Slytherins, who I think we'll be seeing much more of soon. Draco's riding that line between decent and utter bastard. Do you guys think his explanation of his horrid treatment towards Hermione somewhat redeems his character or condemns him? Drop me a review below!**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The day after Ginny's so-called retail therapy, Hermione found herself back in the Ministry's halls, walking towards Blaise's office once again. She paused to smile at Ashley as Hermione passed her desk, yet she received no acknowledgement whatsoever. Odd.

Finally coming to a halt outside of Blaise's door, she took a moment to collect herself before knocking. Taking a deep breath, she knocked twice, pushing open the door at the muffled words 'come in.'

"Good morning, Hermione," Blaise said warmly. Malfoy inclined his head towards her, and she nodded towards both. "I hope you had a restful day, yesterday."

"I did, thanks," Hermione smiled. "Shall we discuss scientific advisors?"

"Yes, that would be perfect," Blaise grinned. "Draco, have any suggestions?"

Draco arched an eyebrow. "In particular, no. I have not worked with many scientific advisors, and have little to comment on the matter."

Blaise eyed him carefully, noting how he had still managed to suggest a legal consult, despite working little in the legal field. "All right… any ideas, Hermione?"

"A few - in my St. Mungo's prosecution, I met with some very talented individuals-" Hermione began, to be cut off by Draco.

"We don't need _talent_, we need _investigators_," Draco interrupted quickly. "Someone who can quickly evaluate the data presented and see the holes in their experiments."

Hermione, though annoyed at Draco's interruption, nodded her head in agreement. "I agree. My question to you both, then, is if you would rather have someone who understands the science enough, but can communicate and negotiate extremely well, or someone who will find every last hole in their experiment, but may be hard to… soften their edges when presenting to the politicians both in Italy and back home?"

Blaise considered this thoughtfully, leaning back into his chair. "Is it possible for us to understand this… rougher person, and would they allow us to communicate their findings? I assume you have at least two people in particular in mind."

"I admit it is more frustrating to deal with the person who knows her science better, but I found in the lawsuit that her particular eye and focus on these things proved invaluable to the case," Hermione nodded.

"What would you recommend, Granger?" Draco asked suddenly. "You know them best, and we trust your judgement."

Hermione was taken aback by Malfoy's sudden display of respect and faith. "W-well," Hermione stuttered, getting used to the idea that Malfoy actually wanted to hear her opinion. "In that case, I would suggest Antha Filix. Although she's a little harder to work with, no one can deny her intelligence and ability to consider every potential angle. She'll save lives with her thorough attention to detail, and arguably time and or disasters that could potentially come up."

"And the other advisor?" Blaise asked.

"Isidore Gaufroi is one of St. Mungo's now estranged administrators, in light of the lawsuit," Hermione informed the two Slytherins. "After seeing the corruption in the research side of Mungo's, she decided that it wasn't the place for her anymore. I know she's been working as a member of the board of directors for some other biomagic startup, so she's comfortable with the politics involved with negotiating as well as the science. However, she will not peruse the data with as fine-toothed a comb as Antha."

Blaise nodded thoughtfully, turning to Draco. "Antha?" Blaise asked.

Draco nodded. "Shall we propose at least one more person before giving the Minister all three names? In the instance that Ms. Filix is not interested."

Hermione nodded in agreement. "I don't have any other suggestions unfortunately, but it would be good to have at least one more backup."

Blaise tapped his chin, before smiling. "I believe Siwa Rudawski, who is the head of research in the Polish Council of Wizards, would be an interesting choice. She has recently relocated to Britain in her attempt to combine international scientific ideas. Clearly she is ambassador material, given that the Polish have chosen her to relocate."

"Excellent," Draco stated. "We'll proceed with those three names."

Blaise and Hermione nodded, and Blaise penned a letter to Kingsley before enchanting it to fly down the hallway.

"In the interim, we should discuss our move to Italy and our agenda there," Blaise noted. Hermione nodded, murmuring her assent.

"When are we moving into the villa?" Draco asked.

"Villa?" Hermione asked.

Draco raised an eyebrow, while Blaise frowned. "Have we forgotten to discuss living arrangements?" Blaise asked.

"This is the first I've heard of anything," Hermione responded. "So we'll be living in a villa?"

"Yes, what else?" Draco asked confusedly.

"Err… I would have thought a flat would do," Hermione shrugged. Draco sneered slightly, but didn't comment.

"I have relatives and property in Italy," Blaise clarified for Hermione's benefit. "We'll be in Pisa, on the coast a mere hour away from Florence where the _Ministro _congregates."

"Pisa? I've always wanted to go," Hermione smiled. "Do I need to pay you rent or-"

"Nonsense, it's covered by the Ministry," Blaise smiled. "Job expense, naturally. Otherwise, they'd be paying us significantly higher salaries."

Hermione shrugged, not knowing what real estate prices in magical Italy would be. She expected they'd be incredibly expensive, but her ambassador's salary was far higher compared to her Wizengamot Administration position, or Merlin forbid she glance back to her Care of Magical Creatures days.

"All right, so six months in Pisa, travelling to Florence as that's where our meetings will be," Hermione pulled out a small planner notebook from her bag and began scribbling down a few details. "The exact date of our international portkey departure?"

"June ninth." This time, it was Draco who answered.

"And the exact date of our international portkey return?"

"December twenty-first," Draco said boredly.

"Christmas shopping in Italy, then," Hermione smiled. Blaise returned her smile, while Draco's eyebrow twitched.

"It's too bad we're leaving before Christmas. It's certainly a sight to see," Blaise reminisced fondly.

"I'd like to actually talk about our roles and our agenda once we arrive," Draco cut in before Blaise could take a trip down memory lane.

"You're no fun," Blaise pouted.

"Just trying to do my job," Draco pointed out. "I have a meeting to attend in an hour, so if we need a plan of action, we should figure it out now."

"All right. What will our first order of business be with the Italian _Ministro_?" Hermione looked to Blaise.

"I expect the first few days will mainly be meeting with their representatives and getting settled in. Likely, there will be a celebration of sorts. Hermione," Blaise paused suddenly, turning to her as a thought occurred to him. "Have you… dealt… with the, er, one percent, recently?" Draco snorted.

"One percent? Income-wise?" Hermione asked, confused.

"Yes," Blaise answered.

"They're not my crowd, but I can manage," Hermione said honestly, realizing what he was getting at. "I've handled my fair share of snobs," Hermione said bluntly, glancing at Draco. Blaise didn't miss her look.

"Luckily, you won't have to worry about blood purity snobs," Blaise said quietly.

"Really?" Hermione asked. Draco inclined an eyebrow - this was news to him, as well.

"Well, you see, the current most powerful _famiglia _in the Italian wizarding world is the Medicis-"

"Wait," Hermione asked, flabbergasted. "Did you just say the _Medicis_?"

"Yes…" Blaise looked at her quizzically.

"_The _Medicis?"

"I believe that would fall under the _asked and answered _category," Draco drawled.

"The political _dynasty _that ruled _Florence _from the fourteenth to the eighteenth _century_?" Hermione couldn't believe her ears.

"How do you know so much about them?" Draco asked curiously.

"Because they're in every single muggle history textbook ever written about the Renaissance era!" Hermione gesticulated wildly. "They're _muggle_!"

It was Draco's turn to be taken aback. He turned to Blaise.

"Is this true?"

Blaise nodded. "This is why the Italian culture places little stock in blood purity. They're the most powerful _famiglia_ of the modern age-"

"And of the past age-" Hermione said breathlessly.

"-and they trace their roots right back to the very muggles who learned, somehow, how to create muggleborn witches and wizards."

Draco and Hermione were shocked into silence.

"Excuse me?" Draco asked his friend, wondering if he had gone barking mad. Perhaps Blaise, during his travels across the world, had experimented with some substance that hadn't quite left his system…

"You heard me. The fall of the Medicis, as the muggles assume was due to a lack of proper male heirs and overall loss of muggle political power, was in reality when _la famiglia _made the final switch to the wizarding world," Blaise explained.

"But you don't just _create _muggleborns from muggles!" Hermione voiced Draco's thoughts exactly.

"The Medicis do," Blaise said solemnly.

"How?" Draco challenged.

"No one but the Medicis know," Blaise said heavily. "Why do you think they rose to power? Before the Medicis, the same blood status society we're barely getting rid of in Britain was ingrained in Italian culture as well. And then this new blood, this muggle 'filth,'" here Blaise looked apologetically at Hermione, hoping she'd understand he was speaking in their terms, not his, "waltzed right in with an entire family of wizards, ruthless with their lack of attachment to the wizarding world. They could care less about our traditions. Instead of starting at the bottom of the social totem pole, they simply took over everything."

Draco sat back in his chair. "And not a single word about how they induced magic in their non-magical relatives has ever been said?"

"Any Medici knows that once that secret is out, they will never have the same grip on Italy that they do now. How did they get so many allies so quickly? Recruit from muggles who have nothing to lose, but so much to gain should they become magical. Muggles who fall for that trap end up in eternal servitude, tricked into unbreakable vows among other older contractual magic. As muggles, that they could never have had any inkling about the bonding magic into which they are coerced. They tore society apart, throwing _famiglias_ who had been at the tip top of the pyramid down to the darkest valleys that no _famiglia _could even hope to marry out of. The Medici brides are bound at least by an unbreakable vow that they will never breathe a word of it to anyone, not to mention the intensive screening process that a woman must go through in order to be deemed a potential match for any Medici member.

"There has only been one instance that I know of where word got to another family outside of the Medicis: the Scordatos. One of the women Scordatos ended up marrying a Medici in an attempt to find out the Medici trade secrets. She allowed her family to use legilimency on her mind after she learned almost everything about the Medicis to avoid a violation of her Unbreakable Vow, since she never verbally spoke of their secrets. Supposedly, she was willing to sacrifice herself for her family's benefit even if the Medicis were to find out…" Blaise shook his head. "And yet, the day after, the Medicis found out, naturally. Ironically enough, her own life was the least of her worries. She was tortured within an inch of her life, that much can be said. But she was left alive. The rest of the Scordatos were found dead the next morning."

Hermione had covered her gaping mouth, trying to maintain her composure when all she wanted to do was sob for the victims of the Medicis' ruthlessness. Even Malfoy was having a difficult time not looking completely horrified.

"The secret died with them… and not a single wife of the Medicis has ever attempted such a feat again. From what I understand, if you are not a Medici son in the direct line of inheritance, you are no longer privy to the most secret information, as a result of that near success." Blaise sighed. "Italy is a very dangerous place to be, right now, if you aren't with the Medicis. I want you both to be aware of the political climate that we're getting into. We're there to represent Britain and see how legitimate this pharmamagical branch proposal really is. I don't trust the Medicis at all, but if this could help save lives, who are we to decline them?"

Hermione nodded slightly, still in a daze. Draco looked slightly paler than normal, but also nodded.

"So our agenda?" Blaise asked rhetorically as he circled back to the initial discussion. "The first few days will almost entirely be simply meeting the representatives involved, namely the Medicis and few other members of the _Ministro_ in charge of international cooperation as well as the representatives from the company itself. Those first few nights, we're not going to be doing anything but research on their backgrounds. I want to know their entire family tree for the last three generations. I want to know how many scandals and rumors have been whispered about them, confirmed or not. I want to know who they're friends with, who they've backstabbed, and a full profile on every single person working in the _Ministro _and the company we'll be dealing with, regardless if they're a lowly janitor or an unimportant file organizer. Before we get to Italy, Hermione, you're going to re-familiarize yourself with every single British law we have. Draco, you're going to review the business laws with her, so that in negotiations, you can keep an eye mainly on that while she can focus on the health aspects of their clinical trials and experimentation. When we get there, Hermione, you're going to review every single Italian law out there, and Draco, again focusing on the business laws as well as their financials. I want to know every angle of their business, what they stand to gain, what they stand to lose, how profitable this really could be. I want you, Draco, to also focus in past business dealings that Italy has successfully made with other countries so we know what to expect and what is reasonable for them to demand. Hermione will work on the science side until our advisor comes. But you two are not to make any deals of any kind, is that clear? You are to provide me the whole myriad of information you have gathered to the best of your ability, and we will make group decisions together. But I speak for the group. This is solely for your safety. The more of an assistant role you play, the less likely they'll go after you," Blaise emphasized, breathing heavily from his rant.

Malfoy nodded. "Thank you, Blaise," Malfoy said, and Hermione was taken aback by the pure gratitude in his voice.

"I appreciate you looking out for us," Hermione nodded in agreement.

Blaise nodded stiffly, before, handing both Malfoy and Hermione a thick manilla folder each. "There's all of the information I have on the proposed deal so far. Familiarize yourselves with everything they've given us so far: estimates of profits, the products they'd like to sell in Britain, plans for purchasing a few smaller British companies so they can establish themselves on British soil, experimental data, licensing demands, intellectual property, taxes, the whole works. Draco and Hermione, you'll likely want to meet at some point in the next week to go over the British laws and Italian if you have time. Otherwise, we won't have to meet until the day before the portkey leaves for last minute debriefing and summaries. Are we good?"

Hermione looked uneasily at Malfoy at the mention of meeting privately, but nodded.

"Good. I'll see you in approximately two weeks. If either of you have any questions before then, I'm merely an owl or floo call away. I'll let you know if Kingsley hears back from any of our scientific consultants," Blaise concluded, dismissing them.

Blaise pulled Draco aside for a short minute, holding another manilla folder and pressing it into Draco's arms.

"I ran across them again and thought you should know," Blaise whispered lowly, before turning away to go back to his desk. Draco's eyes widened as he peered at the file's contents, and he looked up at Blaise, who was studying his reaction. Draco straightened his back and nodded his thanks to Blaise before departing the room.

Hermione packed her notebooks away before exiting Blaise's office, only to find Malfoy waiting for her in the hallway.

"What days are you available, Granger?" he asked calmly.

"Almost any day, but seeing as today is Tuesday and I'll need at least the rest of this week to review every British and Italian law out there, why don't we touch base next Monday and go from there?" Hermione suggested.

Malfoy shook his head. "No good - I've got a meeting with a new potential client that day and it will take up all of my time. Next Tuesday?"

"Should work. Time?"

"Afternoon. I'll have my assistant contact you," Malfoy nodded.

"I look forward to it," Hermione smiled. Malfoy nodded once before turning on his heel abruptly and walking away. Hermione shrugged. They weren't making much progress, but it was a start.

* * *

Draco sighed, rolling his neck and shoulders back as he stood at the apparition point just in front of the Manor gates. It had been months since he had last set foot in this place, and he had intended to keep it that way. Alas, more pressing, and _frustrating_ issues required his presence in his old family estate.

Draco walked through the gates, the familiar shiver of the wards recognizing and accepting the Malfoy heir passed over him, and he still to this day could not suppress the shudder that went through him. It was almost as though the estate was tracking him, watching every move when he was inside it. Draco shrugged off the feeling as he walked up the long gravel drive, taking his time in order to put off entering his old home.

Home. What a bitter, hate-filled memory that word evoked.

Finally reaching the large double doors, Draco inhaled sharply as he pushed the heavy ebony entrance open, revealing the pure white marble foyer and grand staircase as a large, twinkling crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, now cushioned with holding and suspension charms to prevent a repeat of the skirmish that nearly killed Aunt Bella during the war. It appeared that his mother had been redecorating.

"Namnee!" Draco called. A small house elf appeared, her bulging blue eyes lighting up when she saw her master.

"Young Master is home!" Namnee clapped with glee. "Namnee finds Mistress Malfoy?"

"Just tell me where Mother is."

"Mistress is receiving future Malfoy in-laws in the green sitting room. Namnee is so happy Young Master is home!"

"It's good to see you, Namnee," Draco smiled fondly at the elf. Namnee had essentially been his surrogate mother when Narcissa Malfoy was too busy to watch him as a child. "That's all right Namnee, I'll find the sitting room myself, thank you."

"Namnee is serving the Young Master whenever he pleases," Namnee smiled before snapping her fingers away.

Draco made his way towards the sitting room, pulling out a few files from his briefcase. Without knocking, he burst into the room, his face carefully blank as he interrupted all conversation between Narcissa Malfoy and Astoria, Genevieve, and Oberon Greengrass.

"Draco, dear!" Narcissa smiled tightly, her eyes betraying her anger. "I'm surprised that you're finally visiting your poor mother. You must have something very important to say to rudely barge in here without knocking like a common derelict," Narcissa said lightly, though the thinly veiled threat was obvious to Draco.

"I'm sure he does," Genevieve returned jovially, turning to face her future son-in-law. "Draco?" Genevieve prompted.

Draco carelessly tossed a set of files towards Mrs. Greengrass, refusing to help when the contents of the files hit her lap at an awkward angle and spilled out across the floor. The room suddenly took a collective gasp as everyone saw the contents of the file.

"I believe the negotiations for this courtship are over," Draco said stiffly. "Mrs. and Mr. Greengrass, you may escort your disgrace of a daughter and yourselves out of my mother's home."

Astoria was frozen, gaping at the magical photos of her sloppily snogging with Terence Higgs, her normally crisp button down shirt and pencil skirt so askew that her bright red lingerie was further revealed in each subsequent photo.

"Surely there's a reasonable explanation for this…" Genevieve Greengrass began, panicking that her daughter's security in a well-matched marriage was slipping out of their grasp. Narcissa Malfoy had already switched expressions from welcoming to perfected contempt. She sniffed as she looked down her nose at the filth that had somehow crawled into her home.

"You had me _followed_?" Astoria shrieked, finally getting over her initial paralyzation.

"No need to," Draco sneered. "Merely a good samaritan third party who was looking out for my wellbeing. They… came across… the situation, and thought to alert me. They were rewarded handsomely."

"They had _no right_ to invade my privacy in such a crass-" Astoria screamed shrilly, until her father cut her off.

"Crass?" Oberon Greengrass growled. "Haven't you done enough damage already, you stupid girl? Apologize to Mr. Malfoy and his mother, and we won't inflict your presence on them any longer," he snapped.

Astoria's face screwed up nastily, and she choked out a horribly half-hearted apology for disrespecting their trust and dishonoring their reputation before her father escorted her out of the room.

"I apologize profusely, Narcissa. I don't know what has gotten into her. Perhaps Daphne would be better suited-" Genevieve hurriedly spoke as she hung back from the rest of her family.

Narcissa Malfoy did not dignify her with a response. "Draco, darling, would you see to taking out the trash?"

"Of course, Mother," Draco sniffed, pulling Mrs. Greengrass away with a slightly painful amount of pressure on her arm.

"Narcissa, surely we can-" Genevieve stuttered until the doors to the sitting room slammed in her face. She turned to Draco. "Draco darling, you're almost like a son to me-"

"Mrs. Greengrass," Draco said tightly. "I believe our business is at an end." He steered her towards the fireplace, where Oberon and Astoria were heatedly whispering to each other, tears streaming down the younger Greengrass's face.

"But-" Genevieve grasped onto Draco's arm, and he shook her off.

"That _means_ that you and your _family_," Draco spat out venomously, "can leave. Now."

"Come along, Genevieve," Oberon snapped as he forced a sobbing Astoria into the fireplace with a handful of floo powder. Genevieve obediently followed her husband and daughter.

"Draco, you know what it's like to have your freedom taken away from you! I just indulged myself _one time_ before we signed our lives away-" Astoria sobbed hysterically.

"The third party I mentioned noted that you consistently met up with Terence Higgs on a weekly basis, hardly a one-off," Draco sneered. "I have nothing more to say to a despicable, cheating wretch," he sniffed, turning on his heel as Oberon slapped his daughter across the face and threw the floo powder down, enveloping the Greengrass family in green flames.

Draco sighed, pinching his nose as he made his way to his father's study. He pulled out a few ancient tomes with instructions on the Malfoy Manor wards, changing them so none of the Greengrass family members besides Daphne were allowed anywhere near his ancestral home. Once that was done, he returned to the sitting room, finding his mother in the exact same position as before. It was almost as if nothing had happened.

"Such dramatics," Narcissa sighed as she sipped a cup of tea. "Really Draco, you can be _such _a drama queen."

"I learned from the best," he smiled, and Narcissa laughed softly.

"I'm sorry dear, I had no idea that that Astoria girl was such a shameless strumpet. I suppose I should investigate these things more thoroughly, next-"

Draco cut his mother off. "There won't be a next time."

Narcissa stopped him with a sharp look, pointing out her displeasure at being interrupted. "You should know better than to cut me short, Draco."

"I'm sorry, Mother."

Narcissa raised an eyebrow before continuing. "What do you mean there won't be a next time? Surely you don't plan to swear off all women? Just because one happens to be a common hussy doesn't mean you can't find a perfectly eligible wife."

"I mean, Mother, that as much as I know you're well meaning, I'm not going to depend on you to arrange a marriage for me." Draco said softly. "We've gone through so many age-acceptable girls already, but you're limiting it to the pureblooded aristocracy. There's no one left."

"I can contact our family in France," Narcissa said dismissively. "Could find some with Veela heritage, actually."

"No, Mother… I think it's time to reevaluate our criteria," Draco proposed uneasily, unsure of how his mother would take it. She looked at him sadly.

"I know… I know," Narcissa sighed, setting down her tea. "I just… this is how I was raised, Draco. We are the nobility of our society, and in order to ensure our position, this has always been the recipe for our success. Halfbloods and mud-sorry, _muggleborns_," she said distastefully as she attempted to change her long ingrained habit. "They don't understand wizarding society as we do. They haven't had years of family history to preserve, wealth that needs careful management, or even a basic understanding of the traditions that kept us alive in the dark, witch-hunting ages. And though they claim that our traditions are old and outdated… they don't understand. Muggles have become very, very advanced, and they could wipe all of us out in a heartbeat if they discover the threat we pose to them."

Draco was taken aback by his mother's apparent familiarity with muggle technology, things he had barely begun to learn about from his limited discussions with muggleborns.

"It's a slippery slope," Narcissa continued. "The sooner it becomes acceptable for us to marry halfbloods and mud-ggleborns, the sooner it becomes acceptable for us to marry muggles. And the more muggles become aware of our world, the harder it is to keep it secret. And when the secret's out in the open…" Narcissa paused.

"It will be the extinction of our kind," she said heavily, emphasizing each word. She paused again, looking at Draco sadly.

"They'll experiment on us, find a way to control our magic. Enslave us - for they far, far outnumber us. Kill us all, for the threat that we pose. You understand now, why I cannot simply let go of blood purity? I don't care about the nonsense over muggleborns being less magically capable than purebloods, or any of the other lies that the radicalized pureblood society has spread to their offspring. It isn't that we're simply blood prejudiced for the sake of being prejudiced… it's just that many families have lost sight of the real reasons that blood purity exists. And the lies that were fed to their offspring perpetuate, until the muggleborns and halfbloods can point out how ridiculous and illogical pureblood reasoning is.

"I want the best for you, Draco, and for our society. And even if we're the last ones standing, I want to do what's right for our world. So please, Draco, let me contact our family in France, and see if we can't find someone who meets our existing criteria," Narcissa pleaded.

Draco's jaw clenched, nodding his head. Oh, what wouldn't Draco do for his mother?

"Good," Narcissa beamed, picking up her tea again and sipping at it softly.

**AN: Sorry for the delayed update! I've almost caught up with my updates to the point where I'm posting chapters that I've just finished writing, so it's going to be a little slower based on my writing speed. Thanks as always to all of the reviews and follows/favorites!**

**I've always felt that having the books from Harry's perspective, we only ever see the purebloods as irrational bigots who have absolutely nonsensical beliefs. Which, from Harry's perspective, is totally valid. But I think it's time to explore the other side, no? What do you think about Narcissa's take on blood purity? Do you think Draco will agree to it, given now the logical reasoning behind it? And do you think Draco should agree? **

**We're also now just seeing a glimpse of the political climate in Italy, and it's not looking pretty. Thoughts on the Medici family? Any ideas as to how they manage to somehow induce magic in muggles? Let me know in a review!**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Hermione stepped through the Floo, arriving in what appeared to be Malfoy's office. It was unsurprisingly dark, if her previous experience at Malfoy Manor was anything to go by in terms of the Malfoy style. Shocking, however, was the modern touches to his office that looked like he had taken his office out of a muggle magazine. Stainless steel, sharp edges, and minimalist design were nothing like the grandiose decor she had been expecting.

Malfoy was nowhere to be seen. She glanced at her watch impatiently and decided to sit down at one of the chairs facing his desk. As she was maneuvering her way into a chair, she accidentally knocked over one of the files hanging off the edge of his desk in the process. The file's contents spilled out over the floor, but as she picked them up, she stifled a gasp.

No wonder Malfoy had said the engagement was off, Hermione thought as she hurried to shove the photos of Astoria in compromising positions with a bloke who was definitely _not _Malfoy back into its proper place.

"Snooping around in my personal life, Granger?" Malfoy's voice suddenly rang out behind her. Although startled, she refused to let him know that he had gotten to her. She calmly tucked the rest of the photos in and turned around.

"Hardly," she levelled a look at him. "I accidentally bumped into your file and was trying to correct my mistake. I apologize," she said stiffly, thrusting the file into his chest.

"Apology accepted," he noted before tossing the file underneath a few others and sitting down at his desk.

"I'm sorry about Astoria…" Hermione softened, realizing that he must have felt betrayed in one of the worst ways. She could relate.

"Don't be," he said, his voice stony. He looked as if he wanted to say more, but cleared his throat. "Let's focus on our business. I don't have all day."

"Let's." Hermione agreed. "I think the most relevant laws in regards to the Italian company would be their operation freedoms since they're not a British company."

"If they were to purchase a smaller company here, in Britain, however, would they be considered a British company?" Malfoy asked. "If the file that Blaise gave us is correct, there are already talks of acquiring Chemagic within the next few months."

"That's an interesting question," Hermione frowned as she pulled out a binder and flipped through the various laws the Wizengamot had imposed. "The legal definition of a company is an entity with an approved application under the Corporation Act of 1438, amended in 1873, consisting of a group of wizards and witches that carries certain freedoms to act as an individual - to bring a case to the Wizengamot, claim property, hire employees, and loan or borrow money. Although Chemagic has obviously applied for and approved of, if they were to be acquired by Medici Pharmaceutical, since it would officially be part of Medici Pharmaceutical, unless the Italian company applies and gains approval for becoming a company in Britain, they will not legally be considered a company," Hermione explained.

Malfoy was silent, and Hermione looked up to gauge his reaction. He was concentrated, a crease between his eyebrows as he jotted a few notes down on some parchment. Malfoy cleared his throat. "What are they considered if not a company if they do not file the application or do not gain approval?"

"Liability wise, they'll be acting as individuals. Every single employee of Medici Pharmaceutical will have legal liability for every single action Medici Pharmaceutical makes. That should be enough to persuade them to file for a formalized application," Hermione noted.

"Agreed, but we should have a few additional reasons. Are they allowed to offer stock options if they're all just individuals?"

"Not together, that wouldn't be legal," Hermione smiled. "Especially if they're not Wizarding Britain citizens. They'll have to act as aliens, and each employee of Medici Pharmaceutical will have to apply for a work visa in order to conduct business in Britain."

"Good," Malfoy scribbled a note down. "What about taxation? Would they each be taxed on the income that Medici Pharmaceutical makes?"

Hermione flipped to another section in the binder. "Depends on where the money from their earnings is fed into. If the account is held under a single individual's name, only that person will be held accountable for income tax. If it is held under the Medici Pharmaceutical account, then every single employee will be charged the total taxation amount based on that one account. That's a major ouch."

"Good, we will reserve that as one of our last reasons in case they are pushy. What is preventing them from feeding the money into an offshore account, say their Italian account? Would they avoid taxation if they just feed the money elsewhere?" Malfoy questioned.

Hermione underlined a portion of the text in her binder with her finger. "Here, under the individual taxation law. It doesn't matter. In order for them to legally conduct business in Britain, they'll have to have filed at minimum a work visa, and at most a dual citizenship application. Their income tax is measured by total earnings, regardless of where their bank accounts may be located."

"Excellent, one loophole with which we will not have the misfortune of dealing. Let's take the positive route. If they apply and are approved of by the Ministry, they'll have all the same permissions as a normal British company?"

"Indeed. As well as limitations," Hermione pointed out.

"Interesting that there is a rather large lack of a specialized section for dealing with international corporations," Malfoy noted. "You'd expect Blaise's department to be a little more detailed."

Hermione shrugged. "You heard the last year that they amended the Company Act - 1873. It's a wonder that there's an amendment that recent. Most of the laws I've seen haven't been changed since the fourteenth century."

"Traditionalism," Malfoy noted cynically. "I'm fairly familiar with the legalities of British companies. Is there anything in particular to which I should pay careful attention?"

"I'm sure you're actually more of an expert in the legalities of normal business operation than I am, in that regard," Hermione smiled. "Though you might want to refresh yourself with intellectual property law and licensing issues."

"I was under the impression that there is a spell that automatically detects when a person discovers a unique invention, so there's never any contest. The licensing fee is set by inventor, no?" Malfoy asked.

"The licensing fee is set by the inventor, but there is some regulation and taxation done by the Ministry. In regards to the spell, it is only used in cases where the original inventor comes into question and is contested. If Blaise is correct in how ruthless the Medici family is…" Hermione trailed off.

"Then the original inventors may never contest them," Malfoy nodded. "Right, any solutions?"

"Not that I know of. Unless you involve a criminal investigation, there's no way to legally demand the spell be performed against the original claim. The person with the original claim has to have at least some evidence of their unique invention in order to successfully file the originator claim, or the equivalent of a patent in the wizarding world. This prevents witches and wizards from claiming any random idea," Hermione detailed.

"Patent?" Malfoy asked, confusedly.

"Err, sorry, I'm used to explaining things in muggle terms to Harry. I forgot your background for a second," Hermione said sheepishly.

Malfoy looked at her, with an expression that might have been surprise. It was hard for Hermione to read him. "Well, anyways," Malfoy continued, "stealing an originator claim would be a crime, yes?"

Hermione nodded.

"Then you could always involve the criminal investigation. I hesitate to believe that will be too much of an issue." Malfoy noted it down again in his file. "We can always go over the details if it comes up."

"I think it's important to review the laws on international originator claims, since they'll likely have originator claims filed in Italy," Hermione said. "Essentially, if there is an international originator claim that conflicts with a domestic originator claim, the case will be reviewed by the International Cooperation of Wizards, or ICW for short, with maximum of three representatives from each country with the conflicting originator claims."

"Is this checked every time for which a domestic claim is applied?" Malfoy asked.

"Yes," Hermione answered. "It's part of the process."

"So is each country responsible for checking all other originator claims in every other single country?" Malfoy asked, somewhat disbelievingly.

"Yes, it's remarkably inefficient and as a result takes up more than eighty-seven percent of the meetings of the ICW. Naturally, those litigations can run for extended periods of time, as well as cost millions of galleons in terms of resources. I've been thinking about petitioning our representatives to push for an international originator claim that is filed directly to the ICW so it's entirely centralized, and whoever files the originator claim first at the ICW has international legal rights," Hermione explained.

"I would imagine that that is a dearly needed solution," Malfoy nodded. "What about the licensing part of an international originator claim?"

"As the originator claim is under a foreign law in regards to licensing, each licensing case is reviewed under a board of representatives from the Ministry and the foreign country to come to an agreement about the licensing. Again, it's horrendously inefficient, and the process could take months, even years," Hermione detailed.

Malfoy's mouth twisted slightly. "That could be an issue. What if the person owning the originator claim on foreign soil applies for an originator claim on domestic land? There wouldn't be any contesting from the owner, since it's the same person."

"Right, but there is a whole slew of verification of identity that comes with dual originator claimship in the foreign country and Britain itself. It's much faster, however, than the board of representatives, so it would make sense to pursue this avenue than the other. It's also a separate application form."

"For the licensing, then, if they have dual claimship, that means that they're licensing fee would fall under British licensing regulations and avoid the board of representatives?" Malfoy asked.

"Yes, since it is a legal originator claim filed on British soil, the British Ministry therefore has the right to regulate and tax the licensing. However, if say the claim was filed on Italian land as well, the Italians have additional rights to regulate and tax the licensing because of its dual claimship." Hermione clarified.

Malfoy nodded, tapping his quill on the side of an inkpot as he reviewed his notes. "I think that covers all of my questions. Anything you would like to discuss? You did mention in your owl that you hadn't yet had time to go through the Italian laws."

"Right. I've progressed through a few, but my ability to find documentation of all Italian laws is very limited. Surprisingly, the Ministry library has no records of Italian law, and I will need to go to Italy to get further information."

Malfoy tapped his inkwell thrice before looking at her. "I will owl Blaise and see if he has any access to the Italian law books, but I'll also look into my family's library and Blaise's family library. It's possible we may have something of use."

"I appreciate that," Hermione smiled. "Other than that, I believe we've covered all of the relevant bases as of right now. I'll worry more about the experimental trials and the pharmaceutical side of their business, but I'll summarize in our debrief with Blaise. If that's all, then, I've got some more packing to get back to."

"I as well," Malfoy smiled politely. "Oh, and Blaise wanted me to inform you that our debrief will be delayed until the morning of our portkey departure, if you can make it."

"I have no other plans," Hermione nodded.

"Excellent. Pleasure working with you, Granger," he said as he stood up.

"You as well, Malfoy. I'm surprised," Hermione said honestly. "I'm glad we've matured beyond petty school rivalries."

"You and I know it was a great deal more than just that," Malfoy said seriously, his face stony once again. "But all the same, Granger. I'll see you at Blaise's debrief before we portkey."

"Have a good evening," Hermione smiled, flooing back to her flat.

* * *

"I can't believe you're actually leaving," Ginny sighed as she watched Hermione shrink the last of her luggage and place it in her bottomless bag.

"I know," Hermione smiled sadly. "I'm ready for this though. I'm ready to get out of England for a while."

Ginny laughed. "I can relate."

"I'm going to head to the Ministry really quick," Hermione called over her shoulder as she made her way over to the floo.

"For what?" Ginny asked confusedly. "I thought your debrief was moved to the actual day of portkey departure?"

"It was. I'm going to say my goodbyes… to Harry," Hermione said softly. "I know things didn't go well between you two, but he still is my friend. I'm hoping to avoid Ron at his house since your mother mentioned that they've made the house into a bachelor pad. Ron typically goes for dinner now, but Harry usually stays late. Fingers crossed I don't run into Ron."

Ginny nodded in understanding. "Good luck," she said simply.

"Thanks," Hermione smiled gratefully at Ginny. She was going to miss this girl in Italy.

Hermione stepped into the floo, appearing next in the large Atrium. There was a fairly heavy traffic flow towards the outgoing floos, as most employees were headed home for dinner. She made her way to the lift, getting off at the second level and walking down the hallway towards the Auror headquarter cubicles. All down the way, she was silently begging in her head to avoid any possible interaction with her former fiance.

Luckily, she ran into no one, and she navigated her way to Harry's desk with ease. Harry was bent over some paperwork, his hair falling into his eyes as he frustratedly flicked it out of the way.

"It's time to get that cut, don't you think?" Hermione said softly. Harry jumped slightly, grabbing his wand, but relaxed when he saw who it was.

"Merlin, Hermione, you gave me a bit of a start," Harry smiled, standing up to envelop her in a hug. He pulled back, searching her expression as he held her at arms' length. "How are you?"

"Fine," Hermione smiled.

"No really, how are you _really_?" he asked seriously.

Hermione sighed. "Coping. It's not easy, adjusting to the single life again. But I'm okay."

Harry pressed his lips together, running a hand through his messy jet black hair. He straightened his glasses. "Me too."

"And how are you? _Really_?" Hermione echoed, a teasing edge to her voice.

"Same as you. Er… how's Gin?" Harry asked awkwardly.

"She's okay," Hermione assured him. "As okay as anyone can be… in all of our situations."

"How did we come to this, Hermione?" Harry sighed heavily, sitting on the edge of his desk. "I thought… you know, when you and Ron got together, that was it. It was destiny, especially when Gin and I joined you two… I thought it was going to be this way for the rest of our lives. We'd all raise our children together, send them off at King's Cross. Grow old in a society free of Dark Lords, political corruption, or ridiculous media attention. And look at where we are now."

Hermione gently laid a hand on his shoulder. "It's life. We're in a different world now, than when we were in school. And we're different people. We can't expect ourselves to work with the same people we worked with when we were just teenagers. We grew up too fast… maybe losing ourselves in the process. We're finding ourselves now. And sometimes the people we fit with before don't fit with the new selves we've discovered."

"There was a time, you know, when it could've been us," Harry said so softly that she nearly didn't catch it. She understood; Harry was referring to the time they had been abandoned by Ron on the hunt for horcruxes. There were times, too, when she and Ron got into a particularly nasty row, that she wondered too if things might have been different if Harry and she had chosen each other.

"That time passed. And frankly, I'm thankful it did. Or I might not have you, now," Hermione pointed out.

Harry frowned. "That's true."

"I came by to say goodbye, Harry. I'm headed to Italy for the ambassadorial job I took in two days, and I won't be back until Christmas."

Harry looked at her sorrowfully. "I'm going to miss you, Hermione."

"And you, Harry," she bit her lip. "But we'll keep in touch. I'll send you pictures."

"Brilliant," Harry smiled. "I'm looking forward to hearing all about Italy. Except the Italian men. Save the girl talk for Gin or Nessa," Harry teased.

"Since when have I _ever _come to you with girl talk?" Hermione laughed.

"When you were pining after-" Harry froze. "Er, sorry, 'mione."

Hermione sighed. "It's all right Harry. How is he, anyways?"

"To be honest? Miserable. He's lost all of his motivation and is barely making it through the motions of everyday life," Harry sighed frustratedly, running another hand through his hair. It was a nervous habit of his. "I think you should talk to him… before you go at least. One last time."

"No, Harry, it's too fresh," Hermione shook her head. "I'm still angry with him, and I haven't forgiven him yet. I'll only say more hurtful things, and that's the worst thing I can do to him, right now. Maybe when I come back for Christmas, if I've forgiven him and myself, I'll talk to him and get our final closure."

Harry eyed her, before shrugging. Hermione was surprised he didn't push it further - perhaps Harry had finally learned to stop constantly taking Ron's side in everything. "Anyways, we should get the gang back together one last time to send you off. Are you free tomorrow night?"

"My debrief has been moved, so yes. I should be," Hermione smiled.

"I'll owl everyone - round up the DA again for a few drinks at Madam Rosmerta's? Minus Ron, and plus Vanessa of course."

"All right," Hermione agreed. "Are you sure you'll be okay with Ginny?"

"I think we'll manage," Harry shrugged. "Being your friend is something we've never disagreed on."

Hermione grinned, hugging him. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"Can't wait," Harry smiled, hugging her back.

The next day, Ginny was pulling her hair back into a ponytail nervously in the bathroom mirror when Hermione saw her undo it and redo it several times, a sign of her distress.

"Are you sure you're okay with seeing Harry? We don't have to go," Hermione said comfortingly from the doorway.

"No, Hermione, this is your send-off party. And Harry's your friend, too. We're going," Ginny said firmly, though her voice wavered slightly at Harry's name.

"But-" Hermione was cut off by Ginny shaking her head.

"No buts. I'm positive about this. Let's just go," Ginny tied her hair up one last time before dragging Hermione out the door and apparating to the tavern.

As they entered The Three Broomsticks, Hermione was enveloped in hugs and congratulations, a banner displaying _Good Luck Hermione!_ strung from the ceiling above a magically enlarged table to compensate for their large group.

"Let her breathe, would you?" Vanessa laughed as she shoved Dean and Seamus off of Hermione. "Congratulations, Hermione. I'm going to miss you."

"Thanks Vanessa," Hermione grinned, hugging Vanessa tightly.

"Let's get out of the way," Neville suggested, and the group returned to the table, bottles of firewhiskey and mugs of butterbeer scattered across.

Hermione smiled, looking over at everyone who had been able to come. Luna and Neville were grinning across from her, Ginny, and Vanessa, who was next to George and Angelina. Angelina was excitedly talking with Alicia, who appeared to finally have accepted her feelings for Lee, who was bemoaning Oliver Wood's Puddlemere United loss with Harry. Cho, Katie, and Leanne were near the corner, but seemed to be engrossed in conversation with Padma and Parvarti.

"Rumor has it that Padma's now dating Justin Finch-Fletchley," Ginny whispered as she gestured to the two sitting close together.

"About time," Michael Corner laughed from next to Ginny.

"I thought that Justin was dating Hannah?" Hermione asked him, looking at the blonde girl sitting in between Susan Bones and a man Hermione only vaguely remembered.

"Nah, that ended a couple of months ago. Hannah's with Theo, now," Michael gestured to the tall, wiry male on Hannah's left."

"Nott?" Ginny asked disbelievingly. "She went for a _Slytherin_? Not to mention his family's colorful past."

"Oh _him_," Hermione frowned. "I couldn't remember him."

Michael Corner shrugged. "People've changed after the war. Once you meet him, you'll understand. He's a fairly nice bloke, treats Hannah well."

"How did that happen?" Hermione asked curiously.

"I think Theo is also a potioneer. They reconnected at some conference, possibly Po-Con 2002? Apparently, they found a certain _chemistry_," Michael wiggled his eyebrows.

Ginny snorted. "Please," she shook her head.

"By the way, Terry and Ernie told me to send their regards, Hermione," Michael informed her. "They're both sorry they couldn't make tonight, but they're really excited for you and wish you the best of luck in Italy."

"Thanks, I'll owl them before I head out. It's no wonder, with Terry's crazy schedule as a Hit Wizard," Hermione smiled. "Is there anyone actually missing here besides those two?" Hermione asked as she looked around the table again. "I think everyone's here, except for Dennis and Anth-"

"Miss me?" Anthony Goldstein asked humorously from behind her.

"Anthony!" Hermione grinned, turning around to hug him. "It's been ages." Ginny and Vanessa glanced at each other from behind Hermione, both grinning.

"It's been too long. Congratulations on becoming an ambassador to Italy, I hear? That's brilliant, Hermione," Anthony smiled.

"I'm just the legal advisor to the ambassador," Hermione clarified.

"Still, that's spectacular," Anthony straightened his glasses and grinned at her.

"How's the wand-making going? I understand you finished up your apprenticeship with Ollivander and are now working full-time with him?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah - I finished my apprenticeship around fourteen months ago! It's loads of fun. There's something about wandlore that's unlike anything I've ever dealt with before. Learning how to figure out which cores resonate with which wood, how to shape the wood and design it… it's a work of art. You learn to really feel and be connected to the magic that flows within every inch of material you work with. You should come by sometime, when you get back from Italy. I'd be happy to demonstrate. The feeling and listening to wands… it's unreal," Anthony spoke with such passion, and Hermione couldn't be happier to hear it.

"I'm so glad you found your calling. Ollivander couldn't have a better successor," Hermione smiled.

As Hermione and Anthony continued to chat about Ollivander's upcoming retirement plans, Ginny and Vanessa were whispering conspiratorially with each other.

"It's not just me, right? They've got a spark," Ginny nodded towards Hermione and Anthony, so engrossed in their conversation that they hardly seemed to notice anything around them.

"They definitely do," Vanessa affirmed. "Soon as she gets back, we'll set them up. Deal?"

"Absolutely." Ginny offered her hand, and the two witches shook on it.

"So, Ginny, what happened with Ron and Hermione, if you don't mind me asking?" Michael asked her as he sipped from his butterbeer.

Ginny sighed, shrugging. "They're both incredibly stubborn… and they couldn't really find compromise. Ultimately, they just didn't fit well. They each have different desires, different expectations… and neither of them filled the other's wants or needs."

"Bummer. The rest of us always thought it was just a matter of time before they got married, y'know? You and Harry, too…" Michael coughed awkwardly, wondering if he had overstepped the line.

"Well," Ginny said softly, glancing at Harry, who was now speaking to Katie Bell. "I think we all thought that."

Michael looked at her, expecting her to elaborate. Ginny shrugged. "Harry and I had a major disagreement, and I'm not sure it's something we can ever get past. Not for a long while, at least. So we broke it off."

"You doing okay?" Michael asked concernedly.

"As well as I can. He's been such a constant in my life… it's just… weird, not to be with him anymore. It's not necessarily good or bad… it's just.. change," Ginny answered truthfully.

"I know where you're coming from," he said softly, looking over at Susan briefly.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Ginny laid a hand on his shoulder. "I forgot. It's only been what, two months since?"

"Yeah." Michael shook himself out of his daze and focused on Ginny. "Listen, you and I both know that whichever relationship we have next will be a rebound. If you're interested, I promise you that you will hear lots of wallowing in my being hung up over Susan, and I won't judge if you if you do the same for Harry. But we can have fun with it. What do you say?"

"That's a very interesting proposition… and the worst pick up line I have ever heard," Ginny smiled teasingly.

"What can I say? We're two individuals who've come out of long term relationships. I say we save anyone we're genuinely interested in the misfortunes of being a rebound," Michael continued cheekily.

"Ah, so we're doing society a favor, hmm?" Ginny laughed.

"Absolutely," Michael said seriously.

"What if I'm genuinely interested in you, though? Say I wouldn't want our mutual rebound to be a complete and dismal failure?" Ginny raised an eyebrow.

"Then perhaps our mutual rebound will evolve into something more," Michael smiled. "There are numerous possibilities, but I'd say they all start with me taking you to dinner next Friday?"

"Give me an additional week to wallow in my pajamas and tubs of ice cream," Ginny hedged.

"It's a date, then," Michael smiled.

**AN: Hello everyone! Thanks so much for being patient with me, and as always, for the follows, favorites, and thoughtful reviews. Speaking of which, dreamingconstellations, since I can't PM you, thank you so much for reading and reviewing! I'm so glad that you like the different perspective that Narcissa offers, and I'd love to hear from you why you initially had your reservations about reading and what exactly changed your mind.**

**To everyone else: thoughts on Ginny and Michael Corner? I'm pretty sure that they won't be a permanent couple, but we'll see how it goes and hopefully have some fun with it. Thoughts on the legal lingo? I've been doing some research as well as coming up with things on my own, so I'd like your take on how believable/accurate (if you know anything about British law) the things I've outlined are, and other things that I might want to write them considering as we progress. Please drop a review and let me know below!**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"Hermione," a voice called from just beside her. Hermione had been so enveloped in her conversation with Anthony about his apprenticeship that she hadn't realized how much time had gone by.

"Hannah," Hermione smiled up at the blonde woman. "Thank you so much for coming. It means a lot to see you again before I move, even if it's temporary."

"I'm so glad I got to see you again before you head out," Hannah agreed, enveloping Hermione in a hug. Pulling away, she cleared her throat. "I'm not sure if you remember him, but this is my boyfriend, Theodore Nott. He was a Slytherin, in our year."

"I don't think I've had the pleasure of interacting with you much," Hermione smiled politely, offering her hand to the tall, thin man. There was a certain amount of bookish awkwardness about him that reminded her of her late professor, Remus Lupin. Hermione could see that Hannah might find it endearing.

"Likewise," Theo shook her hand, and then nervously adjusted his glasses before putting his arm around Hannah's waist. Hermione couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy as she saw how perfectly Hannah and Theo fit together.

"I must say, you two are adorable together. When I get back from Italy, I expect us to catch up sometime," Hermione said pointedly to Hannah, who smiled.

"Of course, Hermione. We're so sorry, but we've got to head out in order to make another send off party. Actually, your coworkers - Malfoy and Zabini," Hannah apologized.

"They're my mates, so you have me to blame for stealing Hannah away," Theo said apologetically.

"No, no, don't let me hold you up!" Hermione smiled, hugging Hannah once more.

"Listen, Hermione, I wanted to give you a heads up about them. Draco, and Blaise, I mean," Theo said softly.

"Sure, any words of advice before I start living with them?" Hermione joked, but her uncertainty was clear in her voice.

"They're, err… prickly," Theo said awkwardly. Hermione looked at him quizzically.

"I gathered that…" Hermione trailed off.

"Be specific, dear," Hannah said softly. "And concise, or we'll be late."

"What I mean to say, is… well, they've got a hard exterior, you know? All Slytherins do; it's a defence mechanism that we've learned to perfect. But Blaise and Draco… they both have good hearts. You need to know something about the two of them. Blaise never got involved with the Death Eaters. His father was murdered because he refused to perform some task for the Dark Lord. Blaise and his mother were useless to the Dark Lord, so he left them alone. Draco wasn't so lucky, as you know. But he was never inducted into the Death Eaters. He doesn't have the mark. He couldn't… couldn't kill," Theo said quickly, desperate to inform Hermione that his friends weren't Death Eaters.

"My point is… please, Hermione, give them a chance. It's hard, especially for Draco, to look past the prejudices he's grown up with. That we've all grown up with. That's all we knew, and I apologize for our horrid behavior towards people like you. But if you can get past their armor, of sorts, and if they become your friend, they'll be the most loyal, dedicated people you will ever have the fortune to call your allies. They're good people… even Lucius Malfoy wasn't all bad. He was caught up in all of the ideas he was raised with, too, and by the time he had been swept up into the Death Eaters' ranks, it was impossible to leave. He took care of his family, to the best of his ability. He even… even hid my mother and faked her death when she refused to support my father's Death Eater commitment. I owe them my Mother, Hermione. So just… work with them, will you? Promise me you'll give them a chance," Theo finished, distraught.

"I will," Hermione said seriously, placing her hand over Theo's. "Thank you for telling me this."

"You're welcome," Theo said simply, calmed now that Hermione understood..

"We better get going," Hannah said sadly. "Owl us when you're in Italy!"

"Absolutely," Hermione smiled as she said farewell to the couple, her mind reeling with the information that Theo had revealed.

Slowly but surely, their group dispersed, each person saying one last goodbye to Hermione.

"How's Seamus doing?" Hermione asked Dean under her breath as they hugged.

"Never the same since Lav passed," Dean said solemnly. "He was hoping that she'd pull through the coma, even after the healers told him otherwise. He still blames the Browns for pulling the plug."

"It had been two years," Hermione shook her head sadly. "Lavender wouldn't have wanted that."

"I know… he was in deep for her. More than any of us realized. He doesn't even explode anything at the office now," Dean sighed. "He's better than before, but it's going to be a long while. I just hope he realizes what's in front of him before it's too late," Dean nodded towards Susan, who was talking softly to Seamus.

"Really?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Indeed. Must be the Irish accent," Dean chuckled. "Anyway, have a safe trip, and come back to us safely, Hermione."

"Thanks Dean," she smiled.

Leanne and Cho were next, wishing her luck in her career and her time with the Slytherins.

"Watch your back, Hermione," Leanne warned, reminded of the time Draco cursed Katie. It was one of her worst memories, the Battle of Hogwarts besides.

"I never really got to speak with you, and I was a frightfully insecure mess when it came to Harry," Cho laughed ruefully. "Maybe I can compare notes with you when you get back about my research into why electronics can't work with magic?"

"I'd like that," Hermione answered before the two girls departed.

"I'm so happy the wrackspurts have left," Luna said whimsically from behind her. Hermione turned and smiled at the eccentric woman standing next to Neville, who had just resigned from the Auror department to become a professor of Herbology at Hogwarts.

"Where were they?" Hermione asked, deciding to humor her.

"Around you, clouding your judgement. I think Ronald's presence was the main attraction. Perhaps they have an affinity for red hair," Luna said simply, and Neville chuckled, hugging her.

"I think what we mean to say is that we're very happy for your promotion and your independence. Good luck in Italy, Hermione." Neville hugged her.

"Good luck in your professorship and writing _The Quibbler_," Hermione smiled, before turning to the four other standing behind her.

Lee, Alicia, Angelina, and George all congratulated her on a job well done with Ron.

"Honestly, if he weren't my brother, I might've decked him one. It's too bad Mum's such good friends with Angelina's folks. I wouldn't be able to hide out there," George joked.

"Oh get in line, George," Alicia sniffed. "Good riddance, Hermione. I'm glad you're free of him."

"Be nice, you two," Angelina laughed. "He is your brother, after all, George."

"I'm sure Georgie has enough brothers to go around," Lee smirked.

"Don't you insult my family!" George cried, mock affronted.

"I'll see you goons when I get back from Italy," Hermione laughed, for the first time since the breakup, a real smile stretching across her face. As the other three departed, George bent towards Hermione to whisper in her ear.

"Trust me, I've seen to his delicious punishment. Let's say he's a little lacking in the… lower regions for a good two years."

"Oh George, you shouldn't," Hermione called after him.

"Shouldn't what?" he winked as he exited the Three Broomsticks, followed by a quick goodbye from Katie Bell and the Patils.

Justin Finch-Fletchley offered his hand to Hermione. "Sorry for sometimes being a prat in school. Good luck."

Hermione laughed and took his hand. "Sorry for being an insufferable know-it-all," she grinned.

Soon, there was only Michael Corner, Ginny, Vanessa, Anthony, and Harry left. Michael was just leaving when she caught a glimpse of red hair behind Michael's shoulder. Her stomach dropped.

"Oh no," she heard Ginny groan from behind her.

"Did you do this? Did you tell him?" Hermione rounded on Harry, furious.

"Listen, Hermione, I think you're overreacting-" Harry started.

"Overreacting?" Hermione shrieked. "I'm not ready for this! I specifically asked you to _not _invite him here-"

"I only asked him to come at the end, because I think both of you need-" Harry was cut off.

"Harry James Potter, I cannot believe how _insensitive _you could possibly be!" Hermione yelled. "I _trusted you_," Hermione shouted furiously.

Ron cleared his throat, and Hermione closed her eyes, taking deep breaths before turning around to face him.

"Please leave," Hermione choked out.

"'Mione," Ron began.

"Would you _stop _calling me by that ridiculous pet name?" Hermione snapped, her eyes flashing. "My name is _Hermione _and if you could suffer through the full thing, then _please _use my name as it was given to me!"

Ron looked at her sorrowfully, and Michael edged out of the tavern quietly after leaving Ginny his floo address. "I'm sorry, Hermione," Ron said quietly.

"For _what_?" Hermione snapped.

"For…" Ron looked at her searchingly, then dropping his gaze to the floor.

"Listen, Hermione, I've got to run. We'll make plans when you return, yes?" Anthony interrupted, lightly touching her shoulder.

Hermione inhaled sharply, and then exhaled as she faced him.

"Yes, Anthony, absolutely. I'll let you know soon as I'm in town again," Hermione smiled.

"All right. I'll see you then," Anthony returned her grin, before leaving. When Hermione turned back to Ron, he was fuming.

"You're _moving on_, already?" Ron asked, his quiet tone boiling.

"It is _none _of your business, anymore, what I decide to do with my life and who I choose to spend it with," Hermione scoffed.

"I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS!" Ron shouted, his face turning purplish with his rage. "I GIVE YOU MY HEART, AND THIS IS WHAT YOU REPAY ME WITH!"

"RONALD WEASLEY, you are making a scene!" Ginny hissed.

"NO, SHE'S MAKING A SCENE. I'M GLAD NOW THAT I CAN SEE YOU FOR THE STUPID SLU-" Ron was cut off by a stinging slap.

"For the record, _Weasley_," Hermione hissed with such venom that it startled her closest friends. "Anthony and I are _not _dating. Unlike you, _he _understands _boundaries_. Second of all, I have no reason to answer to you, as it is absolutely bloody _none _of your _fucking business_. Third, if you can't even figure out what it is that you need to apologize for, then you're a pathetic idiot and I cannot believe I wasted half of my life pining after you. Fourth, I pity you. You have to resort to insulting, derogatory _names _because you can't come up with anything remotely intelligent to insult me with. You are absolute _scum, _Weasley. At least Malfoy has a modicum of intellect. You?" Hermione spat. "Are. Scum." Hermione wordlessly silenced him and bound him in ropes before turning away from him.

"How dare you?" Vanessa asked, lethally quiet. She scoffed, shaking her head. "Hermione Granger is one of the most honest, authentic, kind, compassionate, intelligent, and driven women you will ever have the exceedingly good luck to meet, much less date or befriend. You two were dating before I knew her, so I never had the opportunity to warn you of the delicious revenge I would take on her behalf if she were ever to be hurt."

Vanessa leaned in close to Ron, who was visibly shaking. "Watch your back. No one hurts my friends or family and lives to tell the tale."

"I never want to see your brother again in my life," Hermione said to Ginny, who nodded.

"Done," Ginny said simply.

"And you," Hermione strode up to Harry, who was trembling. "You're an idiot. A completely insensitive idiot. Maybe well meaning, but I can't forgive this one, Harry. You chose _him _over me. Again. It will never end, will it? I'm done. I'm done being the second best friend. We're over, Potter."

"Hermione," Harry said tearfully.

"We. Are. Done." Hermione enunciated. "Maybe in time I will forgive you, but this, Potter? Despicable."

Hermione grabbed Vanessa's hand, apparating back to her flat.

Ginny stared at her ex for a few minutes, shaking her head. "I can't believe you would do that to Hermione," she said finally.

Harry put his face in his hands. "I was so stupid. I was totally blind to Hermione's needs and put Ron's wants over hers. I should've listened to her. After all she's done for me…"

"You've ruined it Harry. Real well, this time," Ginny said solemnly. "And us."

Harry looked up at her suddenly. "Gin-"

"No Harry, you've finally done it. I thought we'd end up back together, you know. I thought we were meant for each other and after this all cooled down, we'd go back to being normal."

"We still can-"

"No, we can't. This. _This_," Ginny gestured to her incapacitated brother, who was struggling against his bonds and continuing to shout, despite the fact that no sound came out of his mouth. "This isn't something we can get past. I don't know what Ron has magically done to make his happiness more important to you than anyone else's, but it's done. It's over. We're over, forever."

Harry buried his face in his hands again.

"I hope you can sleep in the bed you've made for yourself," Ginny scoffed. "You're an idiot, at the best. A heartless bastard, at the worst." Ginny turned on her heel, apparating back to Hermione's flat.

Ginny stepped through the front door, quietly closing the door before searching for Hermione and Vanessa. Hearing a low murmur coming from Hermione's room, Ginny carefully approached, knocking softly when she reached the door.

"Come in," she heard Vanessa's voice through the door.

"Hey," Ginny pushed the door open and peered around it. "How's she doing?" Vanessa opened her mouth to answer when Hermione cut in.

"I'm right here," Hermione laughed tearfully, angrily swiping at her eyes.

"Okay, how are _you _doing?" Ginny asked, sitting on Hermione's other side and patting her thigh.

"Not okay," Hermione sniffled. "I hate this. I _hate _that he does this to me! I should be stronger than this-"

"Sweetheart," Ginny cooed, shaking her head. "You're unbelievably strong to only now crack. Any other sane person would have sobbed themselves the Thames River by now. You're almost as dry as the Sahara Desert."

Vanessa nodded in agreement. "And it's okay to let it out. You aren't _weak _just because you're expressing your feelings."

Hermione shrugged. "I suppose," is all she said.

"Listen, I'll go break out the ice cream, you go change into pajamas, and we'll have a full day of wallowing, all right? Those moo-vee things - chicken-flicks?"

"Chick-flicks," Hermione giggled at Ginny's ignorance.

"Yes, those ones. Go put one of those on!" Ginny pushed her lightly to get Hermione moving.

"All right," Hermione chuckled as Vanessa pulled her off the bed.

"But after today," Vanessa said threateningly. "No more wallowing. You have some hot pieces of Italian man candy to try out. And I will physically _attack you _if you're still hung up about the Weasel when you're in Italy, for Merlin's sake."

"She's right!" Ginny called as she made her way to the kitchen. "She'll have to get in line behind me!"

Hermione gulped. If it took one of Ginny's Bat-Bogey Hexes to smack some sense into her, Ginny wouldn't hesitate to do so. And that was one experience that Hermione never wanted, nor needed, in her lifetime.

* * *

"Thanks for coming to Hermione's send-off celebration," Hannah smiled at Theo. "I know you were uneasy about how you'd be accepted, but it went fine, didn't it?"

"Surprisingly, yes," Theo smiled nervously, adjusting his glasses and looking down at the intertwined hands. "I should say the same about coming to Draco and Blaise's party."

"Hey, I'm just returning the favor," Hannah replied, drawing herself closer to his side. "I'm just hoping that your friends like me as much as my friends seem to like you."

"I'm sure they will," Theo smiled comfortingly as they reached the door to the Leaky Cauldron. "I'll make sure they play nice," Theo growled under his breath, uncharacteristically firm as he opened the door for Hannah.

The couple scanned the room before finding a group of Slytherins huddled near the back, and waved to them as they weaved their way through the boisterous crowd of regular customers.

"Here's our little teddy bear," Pansy smiled mischievously as she grabbed his face and kissed both cheeks. Blaise stood up behind her, grinning. "And who do we have here?" Pansy asked, tilting her head.

Hannah shifted uncomfortably as Pansy looked her up and down, evaluating her. "Hannah Abbott; I was a Hufflepuff in your year, Parkinson," she replied evenly.

"I thought you looked familiar," Pansy smiled, her teeth blindingly white. She flipped her long, dark black hair behind a shoulder before offering her hand. "Feel free to call me Pansy. Anyone who captures our Teddy's heart is a friend of mine."

"Pans," Theo shook his head at her, abashed. "I thought we agreed after leaving Hogwarts that you wouldn't call me Teddy anymore."

"Force of habit," Pansy smirked, winking at Hannah as they shook hands. "You remember my boyfriend, Blaise?"

Blaise offered his hand to Hannah. "Oh yes, we had quite the competition going in Charms, didn't we?"

"But of course," Hannah smiled, more at ease with Blaise's familiar presence. "You were quite the challenge, but you won, fair and square."

"Just the way I like it," Blaise smiled. "In case you don't remember or know everyone else here, that's Daphne Greengrass, Draco Malfoy, Adrian Pucey, Marilyn Bellamy, Miles Bletchley, Lucian Bole, and Edmund Harper. Most everyone's in our year, though there's a few of our former Quidditch team members here as well."

Hannah waved shyly, grasping Theo's hand slightly tighter. Theo squeezed back, looking at her carefully. "You okay?" he asked quietly as they took their seats, sandwiched between Daphne Greengrass on one side and Pansy Parkinson on the other.

"Yeah," Hannah smiled nervously. "Don't worry about me."

Pansy raised an eyebrow at the couple before smirking at Draco, who simply rolled his eyes in response.

"Draco and Blaise, congratulations on the new jobs," Theo said genuinely. "I think the two of you will be a rather deadly combination to the Italians."

"We'll see," Draco said simply, taking a swig of firewhiskey. "We'll report back in December… if there's anything left of us." Everyone laughed.

"Come on," Lucian Bole sniggered. "Italy can't be that dangerous, eh? Except maybe the _signoras_ who'll shag the life out of you.

Blaise rolled his eyes and Draco semi-snorted, while everyone else chuckled. Except for Hannah, who felt slightly uncomfortable again, but seemed to find a similar reaction from Daphne Greengrass and Marilyn Bellamy. Theo put his hand on top of hers underneath the table.

"Not that Blaise here will be able to indulge, with Parkinson watching his every move," Lucian added, smirking.

"Don't you know it," Pansy batted her eyelashes. "My _darling _here would never dare do wrong by me. Or I'd end him," she said simply, pulling her wand out and using it to twirl her hair.

"But Draco here is free to do whatever he wishes," Lucian winked. Draco scoffed.

"So Daph," Miles started from across the table. "What, pray tell, was 'Toria thinking when she strayed from this lovely specimen, here?" he smirked as he gestured grandly to Draco across the table.

Daphne stiffened, and Draco glared at Miles. "None of your business, Miles," Draco snarled.

"Easy, easy," Adrian Pucey mediated, grinning as he threw his arm around Marilyn. "If Daph's uncomfortable, then she doesn't have to share. Though it does hit a touchy spot, Draco, no?"

"Play nice," Marilyn poked Adrian in the ribs, and he looked at her innocently.

"I was!" he protested, smirking, and she hit him on the shoulder.

Daphne cleared her throat. "I don't pretend to know what goes on in my sister's empty head, but Draco and I both know he's better off without her. Higgs can have the bint," Daphne sniffed.

Hannah turned to Theo. "Astoria cheated on Malfoy with _Higgs_?" she whispered.

Theo shrugged. "I don't really pay attention to the gossip-" he started, when Pansy cut in.

"Oh yes," Pansy leaned over Theo, who scrunched his nose as her heavy perfume engulfed him. "Blaise caught them making out in Knockturn Alley, not once, but _three times_. By the second time, Blaise told Draco about it, but Draco being the practical prat he is, demanded proof. He won't even trust his best friend," Pansy rolled her eyes. "So Blaise returned a third time to snap a few condemning photos of the two lovers, and that was that. I've heard Mother Greengrass is in an absolute tantrum, now that 'Toria's reputation is quite ruined. Daph," Pansy addressed the brunette on Hannah's left. "Any word on what your mother plans to do with her?"

Daphne rolled her eyes, knowing that the pureblood mother rumor mill would be churning with whatever answer she gave. "I cannot speak for my mother," she said diplomatically.

"Oh don't be a spoilsport," Pansy said airly, crossing her legs and eying Daphne as she leaned back. "We're all friends, here," she grinned, a slightly evil sparkle in her eye.

Daphne sighed, closing the book she had been reading and met Pansy's gaze equally. "My family wishes to restore our reputation by marrying my sister and Higgs."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "That doesn't seem right."

Hannah was amazed by the antiquity of these pureblood traditions. It appeared they had stepped into a Victorian era novel, discussing marriages, reputations and the family name.

"Why not?" Hannah finally spoke up, and everyone turned to look at her. "If Astoria and Terence seem to like each other as much as they do, it would make sense that they'd be married to tone down the scandal."

"Oh Hannah, Hannah," Pansy smirked. "You have much to learn, my sweet."

Draco took it upon himself to explain. "The Higgs family is a proud one, and if I have read Bertie Higgs accurately, he would take it into his own hands to discipline Terence properly. Theresia is rather… how should I put it?"

"Petty," Pansy interjected, laughing. "She's a downright bitch. She'd sooner rip Terence's insides out before giving into and endorsing his little affair."

"Pansy!" Daphne cried, taken aback by the woman's candor and language.

"Loosen up, Daph," Pansy snapped right back.

Daphne glared at the dark-haired woman before turning to the others. "I think you misunderstood me. The plan that is being negotiated is to marry Astoria to Terence's older brother, Alastair."

"There we are," Blaise laughed as he lifted his glass. "That's the Bertie and Theresia I remember."

"Poor Alastair," Adrian shook his head, barely containing his mirth. "Even he deserves better than _that_."

Hannah had scrunched her eyebrows slightly, trying to follow the nuanced references that each sentence they spoke seemed to carry. "What has Alastair done?"

The Slytherins all turned to her, and Theo looked at her proudly.

"Well, well, well," Pansy smiled slyly. "The little Hufflepuff has a brain."

"Stop it, Pans," Theo looked at her seriously.

"It was a compliment," Pansy rolled her eyes at Theo. "Do you need a drink?"

Daphne glared at Pansy, who decided it was in her best interest to keep her mouth shut if she wanted to remain the elder Greengrass's friend.

"You're not quite correct in your assumption, Hannah," Blaise turned to her kindly, but the upper corners of his mouth twitched as he held in a smile. "But you're not far off. He hasn't actually _done _anything wrong."

"He just _prefers_ men," Lucian snickered. "And Father Higgs and Mother Higgs need their heir to continue the line."

"Oh my," Hannah gasped, understanding the wickedness of the Greengrass and Higgs' plans. "Poor Astoria."

"Poor Alistair, rather," Miles snorted. "Having to know that you're forever tied to your younger brother's leftovers regardless of your... preferences. As for Astoria... the wretch I think deserves it."

"I'm sure our _Theodore _will never do something like that to you," Pansy smirked as she draped a hand on Theo's arm. "He is _such _a sweet teddy bear after all," she winked flirtily at him.

"I don't know what you're playing at Parkinson, but you better drop it, _now_," Theo growled, shaking her manicured hand off of him. Pansy sat back in her chair, blinking a couple of times at his rejection.

"Theo," Pansy said, for once completely serious. "You are _so _whipped."

Theo blinked once before the rest of the table burst out into guffaws and a couple of wolf whistles. And in the next blink, Pansy was standing next to Hannah and dragging her out of her chair.

"Hey!" Theo warned. "What are you doing, Pans?"

"Relax," Pansy tossed her hair over her shoulder. "We're taking a few minutes to freshen up in the ladies' room. Keep your pants on, Nott."

Hannah uneasily followed Pansy, whose perfect red nails dug into her hand as she dragged Hannah along to the loo. Just before the door, however, Pansy stopped and cornered Hannah.

"No one ever hears about this, got that?" Pansy asked in a low voice, looking at Hannah menacingly. "I do have a reputation to uphold." Hannah gulped slightly before nodding.

"Good. Now, my dear, Theodore Nott has never been flirtatious with me, but he has also never downright rejected me _flat _like he just did back there. Do you know what that tells me?"

Hannah shook her head, not really sure where Pansy was going with this.

"He is _so _whipped. For you. He really really must care about you," Pansy said seriously, her usually careless attitude vanishing into thin air. "I don't want to hear any false assurances that you care for him as much as he does, because when that boy gives his heart away, he gives away _all _of it. And no one can ever match the same amount of love that he will have for another person. The fact that you are the receiver of his love is truly, _truly _priceless."

Hannah was stunned, in awe of Pansy's sudden personality change and her seriousness.

"So don't you _dare _think of ever hurting him, you hear me?" Pansy growled in Hannah's ear. "He really is our teddy bear. And if you hurt him, everyone else sitting around that table _will _go after you. But they'll have to get behind me, because I will be the first and foremost to _end you_," Pansy threatened, poking her wand into Hannah's side before drawing away and plastering on a ditzy smirk. "You understand me?"

"Yes," Hannah smiled, gaining a new understanding of Pansy Parkinson. "I do."

**AN: Hey everyone! Thanks so much for all of the follows, favorites, and reviews! It might be a while until the next chapter, since it hasn't been fully drafted yet, and I'll obviously need to edit it once it has been drafted. I hope everyone's summer is going swimmingly, and I'd love to hear from you all! What do you think of Harry's blunder? Do you think Hermione can/should ever forgive him and Ron? Or do you think they've finally passed her breaking point? How about Hannah and Theo? I wasn't initially even thinking about their pairing until I realized how fun it would be to throw an innocent Hufflepuff into an entirely-Slytherin party, but I think it's cute. Thoughts on Pansy? She's got a slightly different side, no? Please let me know in a review!**


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Blaise flooed into the Zabini Manor, finding his mother waiting for him as soon as he stepped out of the fireplace. He smiled, embracing her.

"Good morning, Mother."

Tazia tsked, stepping back to look him over and straightened his robes. "I can't believe you're leaving again," she sighed. "It seems like you just arrived from Singapore."

"That was nearly four months ago," Blaise pointed out wisely.

"I know, I know," she replied sadly.

"Has the Minister visited lately?" Blaise asked with a knowing smirk.

Tazia lighting smacked her son's arm. "I don't appreciate your implication," she sniffed, smiling as she sat them both down.

"So he has," Blaise smiled triumphantly. He paused for a moment, his expression shifting as he became serious. "It's good to know that he'll look out for you when I'm not here. Especially if anything happens..."

Tazia turned to him sharply. "Don't say such things, _mio figlio_. I have trained you, and you will not fail. You know how to maneuver _Italia_, it's in your blood. Just be careful."

"Still..." Blaise trailed off, but shook himself. "I will be fine. I've survived enough of _la famiglia_-"

"Our family is child's play, compared to the Medicis." Tazia cut him off sharply. "You are certain you can trust your partners?"

"Yes," Blaise answered with conviction. Tazia frowned at Blaise's confidence.

"How can you be so sure?" Tazia asked him pointedly, demanding greater justification.

"Well, I have been in contact with Draco frequently for most of my life, and we both know he was not marked. His loyalties have always lied with his family, and of course the closest of his friends," Blaise explained. He stood closer to his mother, grabbing her hand.

"You know we would both be dead if Draco had not convinced Mr. Malfoy to distract the Dark Lord from our neutrality and faithlessness."

Tazia nodded, sighing. "I know we can trust Draco, but I have always been unsure of Narcissa. We have never really understood each other."

"But I'm not working with Mrs. Malfoy," Blaise pointed out.

"You're right, _mio caro_," Tazia smile thinly. "I just hope her influence over him has waned. Or that her interests coincide with yours. What of the Granger girl? Is she really the heroine everyone portrays her as?"

Blaise snorted. "I had the privilege of working with her in a few projects during our Hogwarts days. She is truly the genuine, nosy, and compassionate know-it-all everyone believes she is. She's an open book, forgiving to a fault. She'd sooner die than betray her friends. And I intend to befriend her."

"Good," Tazia said with finality and satisfaction. "Then you will not have to watch your back as closely. Just remember what I taught you. You know how dangerous it is."

"Yes, Mother," Blaise affirmed. Tazia nodded stiffly, frowning slightly.

"You mentioned before about a scientific consultant, no?"

"Oh yes, I forgot. The Minister is currently in the process of evaluating the candidates we've named."

"I will ask Kingsley to thoroughly vet his final candidate, then," Tazia said thoughtfully. "And I will do my own investigation before I give the final go-ahead."

"_Grazie_, Mother," Blaise smiled.

Tazia looked at her son sadly. "You can trust _Zia _Cerelia. Maybe _Cugina _Allegra. But no one else. You'll have to screen _Zio _Enzo and _Zia _Emilia yourself. I have not seen or contacted them since your father's funeral. Pay them at least three visits when you're there. You know what to look for."

Blaise nodded, looking at his watch. "I have to go; I had to move the debrief to this morning before our departure. I'll be in touch."

Tazia embraced her son once more. "Protect your partners, too."

"I will," Blaise promised. "_Ti amo_."

Tazia smiled, kissing her son on both cheeks before letting him go, worry lines creasing her handsome face.

* * *

Ginny groaned as she heard shuffling around in the kitchen, groggily feeling for her wand on the nightstand. Finding nothing, she forced her eyes open, smirking in triumph when she located her wand and cast a muffling charm on her door. In the following silence, she relaxed, tossing her wand back onto the nightstand and falling back into her pillow.

And then Ginny's eyes flew open, for she had just remembered that today was the day that Hermione was leaving.

She scrambled out of the blankets and out of Hermione's guest room, pulling on a jumper since mornings were still fairly cool. She approached the kitchen, hearing Hermione and presumably Nessa's voices.

"Good luck with everything, sweetheart," Nessa said earnestly as she hugged Hermione. "You're simply going to stun all of the Italian men. They won't know what hit them."

"Hermione?" Ginny croaked, her voice still adjusting from her sleep. "Are you leaving already?"

Hermione pulled out of her hug with Nessa and turned to her. "Yes, my debrief is in ten minut- oof!" Hermione grunted as Ginny crashed into her with a bone-crushing embrace.

"I'm going to miss you so much," Ginny mumbled into Hermione's wild hair, which she hadn't yet calmed into a bun for her usual business attire.

Hermione was a little shocked, for although she and Ginny were fairly close friends, they had never been, as silly as it sounded, _best _friends. That title had been always reserved for the boys. And yet, Ginny was acting as if they were. Hermione supposed that since she wasn't exactly best friends with either Ro-, _Weasley_, she mentally corrected herself, or Potter, that Ginny and Nessa deserved the titles in their place. "I'm going to miss you, too," Hermione returned. Perhaps Ginny and Nessa would become closer than acquaintances in the next few months, seeing as they had begun spending more time together recently.

Ginny reluctantly let go of her before her eyes widened. "Oh! George mentioned that he had a treat for you," she said hurriedly before dashing off to another corner of the flat, rustling in her purse for something.

"If you've gotten a full bag of free Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes merchandise," Nessa groaned jealously.

"I thought Slytherins were obligated by duty to boycott their store," Hermione teased.

"Please," Nessa laughed. "Any sane Slytherin who hated Umbridge donated anonymously to their business. I guarantee you that Malfoy and Zabini have probably done so as well."

"Really?" Hermione asked disbelievingly. "I'll ask them myself."

"Five galleons that both of them have, three if at least one of them has," Nessa raised her eyebrows.

Hermione scoffed, shaking her head. "You know I don't gamble."

"Come on," Nessa goaded. "If you think you know them so well…"

"Fine, I'll take you on for the five galleons, but not the three. I don't know Blaise that well. Instead, I'll bet you the three on the fact that Malfoy has _definitely _not donated, purchased, or supported the Weasley business in any financial way," Hermione caved.

"Done," Nessa grinned, mirth in her eyes.

"Here you are," Ginny returned, slightly out of breath and shoving a massive bag in Hermione's face. Hermione's eyes widened as she peered in the bag, where there were at least fifty miniaturized decoy detonators, peruvian instant darkness powder, jinx-off suits, daydream charms, U-No-Poo, and all manner of explosives and other jokes. They had clearly been shrunk down to fit in the bag, and Hermione wondered if she shrunk the entire bag down again, if all of the products would shrink down to the size of molecules.

"Why has George given me so much?" Hermione gaped at Ginny. "He's losing on so much potential profit-"

"He said you might need it - never know what you might run into in Italy or if you need a good laugh." Ginny shrugged. "I reckon it'll be handy if you're ever in a tight spot with the Slytherins, or if you need to make a few friends beyond the British bozos you're living with."

Hermione grinned. "I'll owl him my thanks. You two ought to come visit me sometime before I come back."

Ginny and Nessa looked at each other briefly. "Sure, I'm in," Ginny smiled.

"I'll see when I have time, and we'll work something out," Nessa answered. "Now that you're gone, Hermione, the cases have been going a whole lot slower. Louis was even speaking with the Minister about hiring you back on a higher salary. The Minister refused of course. You're needed in Italy."

"What case are you lot working on?" Hermione asked.

"Brian's stuck with some idiot has decided to claim they are the last remaining member of the Gaunt family, and so should inherit everything that was once Salazar Slytherin's. Luckily, I'm working on some immigration law with an illegitimate child of the Raviskilovs. It's an interesting situation - there might be some legal claims and actually some criminal punishments depending on how it turns out," Nessa smiled.

"That sounds like fun," Hermione smiled. "Perhaps even more fun compared to the Meriontos."

"Oh, nothing can beat that or St. Mungo's," Nessa grinned.

Hermione laughed. "St. Mungo's is in its own league."

"That it is," Nessa agreed.

Hermione looked at the clock on the wall, a gift from Molly. Unlike the Weasley family clock, however, this one actually told time.

"It's time for me to leave," Hermione said softly.

Ginny choked back a sob. "Owl me frequently, okay?"

"Absolutely," Hermione promised, still slightly shocked but a little pleased by Ginny's emotional state. She and Ginny had definitely grown closer through the destruction of both their long term relationships, and maybe it was this closeness that was inspiring a side of Ginny that Hermione hadn't seen before.

With one last hug to Nessa, Hermione shrunk the remainder of her luggage and flooed to Ministry.

* * *

Blaise greeted Draco and Hermione as he unlocked his office door. "Apologies for my tardiness," Blaise frowned. "I was saying some final goodbyes."

"It's all right," Hermione reassured him, smiling. Draco nodded to Blaise in understanding, having said his goodbyes to his mother the previous night.

Blaise walked towards his desk, opening up the files that he had already laid out neatly. "Everyone packed?" Blaise asked. Both Draco and Hermione nodded. "Good. What have you two worked on thus far?"

"As you suggested, we covered the British laws in regards to Medici Pharmaceutical's operation freedoms. Specifically, we came up with several convincing reasons why they should pursue the legal avenue of filing originator claims and establishing themselves as a British corporation through the Ministry. There were details specifically about liability, taxation, and international responsibilities," Hermione answered, handing a formalized folder of hers and Draco's discussion notes.

"Excellent. Did you find anything useful in the texts I owled you for the Italian system?" Blaise asked as he turned through the pages she had handed him.

"They were very helpful, yes," Hermione responded. "I am still familiarizing myself, and have not discussed anything with Malfoy yet about the Italian business laws. I'd still like to do some additional research once we arrive to make sure I miss nothing."

Blaise nodded. "Perfect. Once we have our scientific advisor, you will also work with her or him in regards to experimentation laws."

Hermione nodded, when Draco spoke up. "Have we any word on the interviewing process from Shacklebolt?"

"He has approved all of our potential candidates and will be in touch with them starting next week to interview them. Hopefully, we will have an advisor join us by the end of the month," Blaise informed them.

"I highly doubt that they'll be joining us for at least two months," Draco snorted. "If how long it took to put the three of us is any indication…"

"The sooner, the better," Hermione sighed. "But I have to agree with Malfoy on this one. Knowing the sheer lack of efficiency in our bureaucracy… I'd agree with that estimate, if not longer."

Draco eyed her, surprised she would actually voice her agreement and support.

"I'm afraid there is nothing to be done, on that front," Blaise accepted. "Our portkey leaves in a few minutes - we should walk down to portkey departure platform. We will be arriving immediately in the British embassy, which is located in Venice. We'll have to go through a few customs, but after that, we have another portkey scheduled to bring us to Pisa. Once we are there, I will side-apparate us to the villa."

"All right," Hermione smiled, before realizing something. "Where's Pansy? Isn't she coming to Italy with us?"

"Yes, she should be waiting outside the door. She is not allowed to partake in any of the negotiations, so there was no need for her to come to our debrief," Blaise explained. "Are we good here then?"

Draco and Hermione nodded, and then followed Blaise out of his office so he could lock up. Like Blaise had predicted, Pansy was leaning right outside on the opposite wall, examining her black manicure that perfectly matched her dark leather jacket and bright red miniskirt.

"Hello darling," Blaise grinned as he leaned in to kiss her.

'My smoochie-woochie," Pansy smiled when they broke for air. Draco and Hermione looked at each other uncomfortably - for once, on the same page. "Are we ready?"

"Absolutely. Shall we?" Blaise offered his arm to Pansy, who took it before turning to Hermione and Draco.

"Draco dear, good to see you," she smiled widely. "Hermione."

"Pansy," Draco returned slowly, and Hermione merely nodded.

"Well, what are we dawdling about for?" Pansy simpered. "I actually _want _to go to Italy."

"Let's not keep the lady waiting," Blaise chuckled, and Draco and Hermione followed them to the departure hall. Both grimaced at the incessant clicking of Pansy's suede black shoes, decorated with a ridiculous amount of spikes on the six-inch heels.

Once they had finished maneuvering their way through the British embassy and customs, the four took yet another portkey to Pisa. Walking out of the Pisa mayor's portkey landing, Blaise offered the arm that wasn't occupied by Pansy's slobbering to Draco and Hermione in order to side-apparate them to his villa.

The four stumbled slightly following the apparition, and Pansy clutched his arm tightly. "You _know _how much I hate side-apparating," she hissed, digging her nails into his arm.

"It couldn't be avoided, I'm afraid," Blaise explained apologetically. "Welcome to _mia casa_," Blaise said to his guests, spreading his arms wide.

Draco looked over the view appraisingly, before nodding to Blaise. "Your family has always had excellent taste."

Hermione's mouth had fallen open as she took in the majestic villa in front of them. On either side of the gray marble pathway that led to a grand, two-story home with beautifully designed arches were gardens that had been trimmed neatly to perfection, stretching on for as far as the eye could see. The ocean view, clear as crystal behind the villa, rippled slightly as the wind brushed against it. Hermione's breath caught in her throat. "It's gorgeous," she whispered.

Pansy scoffed, looking down her nose at Hermione. "It's adequate, but I wouldn't expect the likes of _you _to be able to tell the difference."

"Pansy," Blaise warned.

"Bad habit of mine," she sniffed, before flouncing towards the centered archway that framed the ornate front door. The large walnut wood had delicate carvings depicting various scenes from Roman and Greek mythological stories. Hermione had barely begun to pick out the tale of Ariadne and Theseus when she was ushered inside.

"Come," Blaise gestured for Draco and Hermione to follow him as he led them into an enormous foyer, set with glazed terracotta tiles that spread to a staircase on either side. Hermione placed her hand on one of ornate wrought iron railings, admiring the graceful grapevine handiwork that traced up to the landing overhead.

"_Dalia, Pepe, e Fragola!_" Blaise called, and three house elves appeared in front of him.

"_Bentornato a casa_," the middle house elf, Pepe, greeted. "_Come possiamo servire padrone e dei suoi ospiti?_"

"_Per i nostri ospiti, si prega di parlare inglese,_" Blaise instructed them. "Pansy, dear, _Fragola _will be taking care of you. Draco, _Pepe_. Hermione, _Dalia_."

Pansy nodded. "Take my luggage to my room," she sniffed at Fragola, who accepted her purse and apparated away. Draco did the same, without a second thought.

"Blaise," Hermione said uneasily as Dalia looked up to her with wide eyes. "I don't need a house elf."

Dalia looked affronted. "If Miss Hermione would prefer other help, Dalia can arrange it."

"No, that's not what I meant," Hermione protested.

Pansy rolled her eyes as she saw Hermione awkwardly bending down to Dalia's level, who was now shaking with embarrassment. "You're offending her," Pansy barked. "Dalia, take Hermione's luggage from her pocket and set up her room."

Dalia narrowed her eyes at Pansy. "Master has not assigned me to assist you. I take my orders directly from Miss Hermione."

Pansy scoffed. "Glad that elf isn't mine," she commented snidely.

"Pansy," Blaise warned, but Hermione clenched her fists.

"I should think she shouldn't be in _anyone's _possession!" Hermione snapped back.

Dalia stood strong, though everyone could tell that she was beginning to well up. "Dalia is sorry for offending Miss Hermione. Dalia will do her best to correct her grievous offense, though Dalia does not understand what she has done incorrectly."

"Hermione-" Blaise started.

"You haven't done anything wrong!" Hermione cried to Dalia.

"Granger-" Draco began. Pansy was doing her best to keep from laughing, but decided she could care less. Her obnoxious laughter filled the room, providing background for Dalia's voice of confusion.

"Then why does Miss Hermione insult Dalia with homelessness and freedom?" Dalia sniffled.

"Insult? I meant no such thing," Hermione tried desperately to comfort Dalia, who was on the verge of tears. She further squatted to Dalia's level and touched her shoulder, which was the worst thing she could have done; Dalia promptly burst into tears.

"HERMIONE-" Blaise shouted.

"GRANGER-" Draco yelled, trying to get her attention.

"WHAT?" Hermione shouted, frustrated as she wrapped Dalia's shaking body in her arms.

"Stop touching her," Blaise commanded in a low voice. "To house elves, that is the worst punishment. It means they have been so unprofessional in their service that we had to use physical means in order to communicate to them."

Hermione released Dalia slowly, who began to finally calm down. Draco scoffed before turning on his heel and departing the foyer. "As you explain Granger's latest social blunder, I'll be out on the veranda."

Pansy pursed her lips. "I'll join you, Draco," she smirked at Hermione's current state before following.

Blaise knelt down to Hermione who had ended up on the floor. "Dalia, would you explain to Hermione why her words unintentionally caused you offense?"

Dalia sniffled, wiping her eyes on her small cotton apron. "M-m-iss Hermione suggested Dalia be fired and o-owner-less… which means Dalia has done s-something h-horrib-bly wrong," Dalia hiccuped.

"Oh no, Dalia, I didn't mean that at all," Hermione said softly, starting to reach out before pulling her hand back as she remembered. "I meant that I believe no elf should have an owner or be a slave. Hold on," Hermione paused as she processed Dalia's words. "Did you say fired?"

"Y-yes," Dalia answered.

Blaise touched Hermione's shoulder. "I employ my elves, give them a home, educate them. The Italian system is different."

"Are you telling me that Dalia could quit any time she wants to? That she's being paid? That she could be a banker, or a healer if she wanted to?" Hermione asked, flabbergasted.

"Dalia chooses to serve the Fair and Honorable House of Zabini," Dalia said proudly. "Dalia's mother was an accountant. Dalia's father also served the Fair and Honorable House of Zabini."

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I misunderstood," Hermione sighed, contrite. "Where I'm from, house elves are enslaved and abused."

"You assumed Master to _enslave _and _abuse _Dalia?" Dalia asked, frowning in offense once more.

"It was a horrid assumption, and I am so sorry for insinuating anything like that. You too, Blaise," Hermione apologized.

"It's simply a misunderstanding," he smiled. "Dalia is happy to help you, and she would be very sad but understanding if you didn't want her help, right Dalia?"

Dalia nodded, straightening out her flowery dress and composing herself.

"I would be very happy if you would bring my luggage to my room, please?" Hermione asked kindly, pulling out her shrunken luggage.

"Dalia would be happy to do so for Miss Hermione," Dalia smiled, apparating away.

"I'm so sorry," Hermione turned to Blaise. "I suppose this should be a lesson to ask before assuming."

"It's all right, you just didn't understand." Blaise pulled her to her feet. "Shall we join the others on the veranda?" Blaise offered his arm.

"I'd like that," Hermione smiled, taking his arm.

**AN: Hello everyone! Sorry for the much longer update than normal, but this will more likely be the future update speed, as I am only beginning to work on the next chapter now. For those who are unfamiliar with Italian, **_**Zia **_**and **_**Zio **_**mean Aunt and Uncle, respectively. **_**Cugina **_**is cousin. Aunt Cerelia and Cousin Allegra are on Tazia's side of the family, and Enzo is Blaise's father's brother. Emlia is Enzo's wife, just as an FYI. We'll be meeting them soon!**

**Thanks as always to the new followers, favorite-ers, and reviewers. Shout especially to those that are already proving to be wonderful editors and discussion partners - Hoshiakari7, Honoria Granger, Roni2010, Weeka1313, EverlastingTrueRomance, MagnoliaOrchard, and Lukas 10.**

**Keite - sorry for not yet PM'ing you - I think if you're using the new Fanfiction app for Android phones, it isn't giving me an email notification. I didn't realize until today that you had left such a thoughtful review, but expect a PM coming your way!**

**Thoughts on Ginny's emotional state? I have some plans for Ginny, and I'm curious to see if any of you can predict what will happen. How about the interaction between Blaise and Tazia? I thought it might be an interesting comparison - Blaise and his mother versus Draco and Narcissa. Hermione now is in the snake's nest… we'll see if she'll survive. I have to say, having Hermione live with not two, but **_**three **_**Slytherins is going to be an interesting time. Any requests for things they'll do to her, or that she'll do them? She does, after all, have a whole bag of Weasley goods… :) Let me know in a review below!**


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"She doesn't belong here."

Draco turned from the breathtaking view to look at his dark haired companion, who naturally was paying more attention to her nails than the beautiful ocean and beach below them. He wondered why he was even surprised. It was a classic Pansy move.

Draco's gaze shifted back to the view, ignoring her obvious lack of appreciation for natural beauty. "And what makes you suggest such a thing?" he asked noncommittally, though he knew exactly what she was referencing.

Pansy scoffed, giving him a look that indicated she didn't buy his obliviousness one bit. "Did you see how she treated Dalia? She's so… ignorant."

Draco pinched his nose. "Can you blame her? It is not as if she grew up in a pureblood family who taught her how to handle house elves."

"Obviously," Pansy said scornfully. "Though your family was certainly… _unique_ in how you treated your help."

"Watch it Pans," Draco growled. "You know that _I _am not that despicable."

"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree," Pansy smiled cruelly. Draco scoffed, turning his back on her. Pansy sighed petulantly.

"I know you will never be your father, Draco." She pouted. "Really Draco, are you simply going to ignore me this entire trip?"

"What a thoughtful apology," Draco bit out sarcastically.

"You _never _apologize, so expect me to return the favor," Pansy retorted.

"Touche," Draco grumbled under his breath.

"I'd gamble a hefty sum of galleons that she'll botch up your whole operation with a few missed social cues," Pansy grinned with amusement. She closed her eyes, clearly satisfied with her own mental image of Granger's complete and utter failure. "Though I may be giving her too little credit-"

Draco snorted at that. Pansy's eyes flashed. "Just because you have some sick crush on the frizzy haired _beaver _doesn't mean she's _anything _special."

Draco barked out a laugh. "In what deluded mind of yours would it ever make logical sense that I _fancied_ _Granger_?" Draco asked incredulously.

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much," Pansy batted her eyelashes.

Draco shook his head. "Believe what you will, Pans. I have other concerns than, how did you put it, _crushing _on Granger."

Pansy, satisfied with his answer, found another victim of conversation. "Well anyways, as I was _saying_ before you so rudely cut me off, Granger is far better than the rest of the _Golden Trio_," Pansy yammered on derisively. "Actually," her eyes began to glint with menace. "Perhaps the real reason behind the massive breakup of both _Darling Duos _is that she and Potter realized that even the Weasley family was too poor and unrefined for their social stature."

"Pansy," Draco warned.

"Don't you 'Pansy' me," Pansy retorted. "You and I are both thinking the exact same thing - Granger's the real reason why Potter even survived to finally off the Dark Lord. The Weasel just sat there for their comic relief."

"Don't presume that you know _anything _about what I think," Draco hissed. Pansy looked at him incredulously.

"I dated you for the better part of our Hogwarts' careers, and before then, I was your best friend- don't you roll your eyes at me! You know it's true. Vince and Greg were just bodyguards, and you didn't even begin to talk to Blaise or Theo until around fifth year. I _know _you, Draco. Whether you like it or not," Pansy said confidently.

"How long ago was Hogwarts? Years, Pans. You may know the eleven year old Draco, but you haven't understood any version of me starting sixth year. You might as well be looking at a stranger."

"Nobody changes that much, if at all," Pansy dismissed.

"The war, Pans. The war changed everyone. Even you've changed," Draco said solemnly.

"Hardly," Pansy scoffed. "The only difference is that I've now got a nice pair of tits and an arse to die for."

"Please, tell me more about your body insecurities," Draco sniped.

Pansy smirked. "My facial structure has lengthened out, wouldn't you say so, Draco? Not quite as stunted as in my prepubescent years."

Draco eyed her, noticing the sharper cut of her cheekbones and the more confident intensity of her gaze. Although Pansy was no beauty, she had certainly grown out of the pug-faced girl who had trailed him for most of Hogwarts. Her nose, although he'd never admit it aloud for fear of his personal well being, was still slightly squashed. Instead, he voiced his other thoughts.

"I'm proud of you, Pans. I am happy to hear your vocabulary has expanded to 'prepubescent.'"

A flash of hurt flickered across her face, so quickly that Draco wondered if he had imagined it. He internally snorted. If she had been fishing for compliments, she was sorely mistaken if she had thought Draco would be able to provide them. They weren't friends. Not by a longshot.

"Like your vocabulary included anything beyond 'my father'," Pansy shot back.

Draco bristled. She was right, to a point at least. She _did _know his younger selves, which meant she had plenty of ammo as far as his past was concerned. It was too bad that Blaise was dating her. Otherwise, Draco might have decided to obliviate her right there.

"You're lucky that I actually like Blaise," Draco said, an edge to his voice.

Pansy tsked. "And here I thought we were actually getting on?"

They were interrupted by Blaise and Granger's entrance on the veranda. Pansy's nostrils flared slightly as she noticed Granger's hold on Blaise's arm, and she immediately shifted positions so that she very nearly shoved Hermione off of Blaise.

"Blaise, my smoochie, I missed you," Pansy said in that nauseating honey-sweet voice of hers.

"It's been seven minutes," Granger grumbled under her breath. Pansy shot a glare at her.

Draco couldn't wait to get away from them. Pansy, mainly.

"If you'll excuse me," Draco muttered. "When you wish to begin discussions or dinner, send a house elf to my room."

He quickly strode back into the villa, before anyone else could make a remark. Looking both ways, he chose his left, passing by various sitting rooms, a dining room, a music room, a library, a courtyard, a pool… the hallway seemed endless. Finally, he happened upon another marble staircase, and ascended towards the second floor.

_Like your vocabulary included anything beyond 'my father'..._

Pansy's sharp comeback rang in his ears, hitting him harder than he had originally anticipated. He shook his head to clear his thoughts as he searched the endless row of double doors for some indication as to which was his room.

_The apple doesn't fall far from the tree…_

Draco gritted his teeth. Finally, a set a double of doors glowed silver as he passed by, and on further inspection, his name had been elegantly printed in gold above the door handles.

As he pushed the doors open, Pepe, his assigned house elf, appeared in the room.

"Master Draco requires Pepe's help?" Pepe asked in the lowest voice he had ever heard on a house elf.

"No, thank you Pepe. I will summon you if I need anything," Draco said.

"Pepe leaves Master Draco, then," Pepe bowed before popping out.

Draco sat heavily on the bed, which had been covered in acromantula silk sheets. He allowed himself one grin at Blaise's excellent taste before he noticed a letter that had already been left on the bedside table. As he leaned back and snatched it from the nightstand, his face twisted into another frown. He would recognize his mother's swooping cursive anywhere.

* * *

"What do you mean you won't take him back?" Molly Weasley asked, dropping her wooden spoon in astonishment. Ginny sighed, unsure of how to continue.

"I mean that it's over. Done. I'm not taking him back," Ginny said tiredly.

"Now you're just overreacting, dear. You don't really mean that."

"No mum, I really do. Harry and I are over."

Molly shook her head, placing her hands on her hips. "Ginevra, I don't understand you! Harry is one of the kindest and sweetest boys out there, and is not only a good man, but the Chosen One, to boot! And he loves you, dear. What more must the poor boy do to get you back? He's tried talking to you, sending you flowers, begging for your attention at the _Prophet_. How can you not even hear out his apology?"

"He betrayed Hermione's trust, Mum. You don't do that to someone who's stuck beside you for almost half your life," Ginny explained.

"He was just trying to help," Molly frowned at her only daughter. "I honestly can't believe Hermione would be so unreasonable, besides. How can Ron fix them if she won't even speak to him?"

"They're over, Mum. Let it go!" Ginny snapped.

"Don't you dare take that tone with me, young lady," Molly threatened. "They were engaged, for Merlin's sake. I don't understand why Hermione just up and ended it."

"They weren't right for each other," Ginny said tightly, trying to keep her temper under control.

"What does that even mean?" Molly asked exasperatedly.

"Ron's been suffocating Hermione since they started dating! He wants her to settle down and have his babies-" Ginny was interrupted by Molly's patronising tone.

"Now there is _nothing _wrong with wanting to start a family-"

"Not _yet_, Mum! Hermione wants a career!" Ginny exclaimed.

Molly clucked. "I don't really see the point in wasting your time on something you're going to give up on later anyways."

Ginny fumed. She should have been used to her mother's slightly outdated views, but for some reason, she couldn't help but get upset.

"Who said she was ever going to give up on it?" Ginny clenched her jaw.

Molly's eyes widened. "But- even when she has kids?"

"Yes, there's such a thing called work-life balance," Ginny said sarcastically.

"Well, even if _Hermione _had such… _aspirations_," Molly said, a tad bitterly, "she could have worked it all out with Ron rather than just dropping him like that. She clearly loves him - why else would she have agreed to the engagement?"

Ginny shook her head, her anger suddenly deflating. "They wanted different things in life, mum. Ron wasn't going to let her keep going with her career - as she moved up higher with Wizengamot Administration, she was going to be working longer and longer hours. Ron wanted to get married almost immediately. Hermione wanted to wait. They couldn't even decide on a wedding date."

Molly shook her head. "We all have our disagreements."

"These weren't disagreements. They had massive rows over these small things. How could they possibly make the bigger decisions if they're fighting at every turn?" Ginny asked.

Molly snorted. "Hermione simply needs to be less critical of Ron. And tone down her stubbornness. It isn't becoming of a lady."

Ginny's nostrils flared as she took in a deep breath, trying to calm herself. "Mum-" she began.

"And _you _need to hear poor Harry out!" Molly turned the conversation back to Ginny's broken relationship.

"I did! And I still don't think we should get back together!" Ginny snapped.

"He had _good _intentions, Ginevra. Was there anything else besides this little incident that bothered you about your relationship?"

"It's not a _little _incident!"

"I think you're blowing this whole situation _far _out of proportion!" Molly lectured. "Was there _anything _else?"

"YES!" Ginny was now openly sobbing. "_He _was the one who originally broke up with me! Just because _I _made a decision that he didn't like. All I did was talk to Hermione about how she and Ron weren't working-"

"You were the one who originally brought this all up?" Molly asked, suddenly quiet.

"Yes," Ginny answered honestly, tears streaming down her face. Honestly, what was wrong with her?

"How could possibly do that to your brother and one of your best friends?" Molly asked, her voice rising. "I am _ashamed of you_, Ginevra Weasley! No child of mine would insert themselves and break someone else's relationship!"

"That's not what I did! I just talked to Hermione!" Ginny cried. "_You're _blowing this out of proportion! I just pointed out things that she hadn't been paying attention to!"

Molly shook her head at Ginny disappointingly. "It wasn't your place."

"She was my _friend_, I had to say _something!_"

"I can't believe you," Molly turned away to fiddle with something in the kitchen. In the background, the floo activated, and Arthur Weasley stepped out, brushing ashes off of his hat.

"Molly, dear, I'm home!" Arthur called.

"In the kitchen!" Molly called back.

"Ginny!" Arthur beamed as he rounded the corner. "What brings you home? Oh my," he paused as he took in her teary eyes. "What's wrong?"

"_Your daughter _refuses to forgive Harry over something entirely trivial," Molly snapped from the sink, where she was preparing some potatoes.

"It's not _trivial_," Ginny grumbled.

Arthur looked back and forth between his wife and only daughter. He had no idea what this trivial or nontrivial situation was, so he chose to approach it differently. "Is that the only thing that has been bothersome about your relationship with Harry?" he asked Ginny gently.

"No," Ginny muttered. "Harry… he doubts me sometimes. He's constantly questioning if my love for him is real, or if I'm just another fan girl."

"That's rather silly of him," Molly dismissed. "He's known you since you were ten!"

"That's precisely why he wonders if it's real," Ginny sighed, putting her face into her hands. "I had an obsession with him… which grew into genuine love, but when we have a row, or I do something he didn't think I'd do, he's constantly questioning _us_. It's like… he has never known what love is really like, and can't possibly believe that I could love him for _him_."

Arthur frowned. "I can see why that would make things unstable. Is there anything else?" Molly tutted in the background.

"Well," Ginny shrugged. "He sometimes still sees me as a little sister. The romance is almost nothing...not the same passion anymore that we felt in school."

Arthur shifted uncomfortably, while Molly shook her head. "Real relationships should not be about snogging and feeling each other up in broom closets," she admonished.

"I _know _Mum, but it'd be nice if there was at least _something _there once in a while instead of going through the motions out of obligation! Not only that, but he's almost suffocatingly protective and self-sacrificial - he almost worships me and puts me on a pedestal which makes for a very _unbalanced _relationship-"

"How can he worship you but question you?" Molly asked. "You can't have them both at the same time."

"I don't know!" Ginny yelled suddenly. "Sometimes I'm a goddess that he couldn't possibly be worthy of, and other times he wonders if I'm just another fake social climber!"

"Control yourself, Ginevra!" Molly snapped. "I don't know why you have to go about getting all upset again, when all we're doing is having a discussion!"

"I don't know why I'm so emotional," Ginny started crying.

"It's all this stress you're carrying with you about your break-up and Ron and Hermione's, too. You need to let go, dear," Arthur said reasonably.

"That and the full moon is coming," Molly suggested.

"Don't remind me!" Ginny snapped. "I'm done talking about this, all right? Harry and I have lots of issues, and this is just the straw on the camel's back! We had it coming! Ron and Hermione, too!"

"Honestly it sounds to me as though you and Hermione just need to hear your counterparts out," Molly sighed. "They didn't really do anything wrong, Ron or Harry. You girls are just being dramatic."

"Do you even hear yourself?" Ginny shouted. "I can't believe you. You're dismissing everything I had to say? You're taking _their side_?"

Arthur tried to mediate. "Now Ginny, we're all adults here. _Nobody _is taking sides-"

"Not taking sides?" Ginny shrieked. "Bill and George have made their stances clear. They acknowledge that Ron and Harry haven't been perfect and that it is _perfectly _within our rights to break up with them if it's not working! Mum and Percy and _Charlie _have been sending me letters nonstop, questioning my decision and voicing their disapproval rather than their _support!_ That's what I need right now! _Support!_ If Hermione hadn't been in Italy, she'd have been _uninvited _to the family dinners and sent a couple of howlers, to boot!"

"I would never-" Molly bristled.

"Maybe not the howlers, but some passive way of letting her know you didn't approve," Ginny hissed.

"Ginevra!" Arthur said sternly. "That is enough."

"Besides," Ginny said quietly. "I've a date with Michael Corner next Friday."

Molly inhaled quickly through her teeth. Arthur looked confused.

"Didn't you date him before? Early years at Hogwarts?" Arthur asked, frowning as he attempted to remember his daughter's past relationships.

"It was dumb back then, I was trying to get over Harry-"

"And you'll think it'll work _now_?" Molly asked critically.

"It's never going to be serious with Michael! He's just gotten out of a long relationship, and I have as well! It's a _rebound_," Ginny snapped. "We both have _no _expectations, for once. It'll be nice!"

"Harry's not going to just stick around for you to come back to him," Molly warned. "There'll be plenty of other girls to snatch him up!"

"Let them," Ginny spat venomously.

"Perhaps, Molly, it is for the best. Ginny has pined after Harry for the better part of her life. It clearly hasn't been working, or they wouldn't be here like this. Maybe she's been clinging to a school-girl crush this whole time, Harry, too, and it's time for them to grow up. Move on," Arthur said sagely.

"You'll regret this one day," Molly warned, shaking her spoon at her daughter. "And when you do, don't come crying back to me. Because I told you to keep at it, and you're giving up."

"No," Ginny said firmly, finally calm. "I'm moving on."

* * *

Blaise quietly peered into each of the aisles he passed by, searching for the petite brunette. As he neared the law section of his family library, he sighed. He should started here, though there was always the possibility that Hermione may have gotten distracted amongst the hoards of information on any of the shelves. As he rounded a corner, he peeked his head around the bookshelves, finding Hermione tucked into one of the leather chairs. Countless parchments and old tomes had been fanned out onto the table, and Hermione was scribbling carefully, chewing on the tip of the feather as she paused to reference the current book in her lap. He smiled. There were few things that the war didn't change, and it was nice to see Hermione's study habits had stayed consistent.

"Any luck?" Blaise asked quietly, hoping he wouldn't frighten her.

Hermione looked up from her multiple books, slightly startled but almost instantly calmed by Blaise's presence. "Plenty actually. The trick now is to organize a comprehensive list since these laws are all over the place. I should have a good idea by tomorrow morning as to what we're dealing with."

"Good. Is there anything else you need? There should be a public law library in Florence that contains the most recently updated _Ministero _manifests, guides, and such. We can visit tomorrow after meeting with the main Medici Pharmaceutical representatives."

"That would be lovely. Are you expecting us to need the information before then?" Hermione asked worriedly.

"A quick debrief over dinner should be plenty to give the other two of us a basis for the brief talks tomorrow. It's more of a meet and greet and outlining a few of the questions we should return to the Ministry so we can get preliminary answers. Likely, we will be setting up an agenda for the next months until we return to England. I don't expect any serious agenda work to start until next week, though. The remaining few days will be filled with social lunches, dinners, and balls. I hope you brought proper attire?" Blaise asked, suddenly frowning.

Hermione frowned. "I only expected us to attend business functions… I don't have any _ballgowns_."

Blaise sighed. "Unfortunately, Hermione, balls _are _business functions. Many deals are made on the side of the dance floor over a few flutes of champagne. You'll have to go shopping. Tomorrow will work just fine, after our initial meeting and research. We'll take a floo to Milan, and Pansy can help you pick out a few appropriate outfits."

"I think I can manage," Hermione said quickly, anxious to avoid the dark-haired snake as much as possible.

"Nonsense. Pansy has excellent taste and is up to the latest fashions. She'll know exactly what to get for you and the designers to look out for," Blaise smiled.

"But I couldn't possibly afford the fashions that Parkinson picks out-" Hermione said frankly, panicking slightly.

"Silly girl," Blaise laughed deeply, eyeing her with amusement. "It's a business expense! We simply charge the Ministry. Kingsley has already approved a hefty budget for the three of us, and as I expect Draco and I already have appropriate wear, we can splurge on yours. How we present ourselves is how we represent England, after all."

"Blaise… can I be honest with you? Blunt, even?" Hermione asked timidly.

"Of course," Blaise furrowed his eyebrows.

"Well… as you know, Parkinson and I have no love lost between us," Hermione said softly. "I'm not sure I'm comfortable with… er…"

Blaise caught her meaning and smiled sympathetically. "My apologies, I was being insensitive. Draco and I will accompany you as well. Draco and Pansy often trade barbs, so perhaps she will be occupied with insulting him so that her valid fashion advice comes through when she speaks with you," Blaise stated. "Draco and I also have excellent taste, at risk of sounding too pompous, and we may help if you ever feel you need a particular garment vetoed."

Hermione's mouth twisted at the idea of parading in various ballgowns in front of Malfoy, of all people, and receiving his biting criticism, but she shrugged. Blaise would rein the two in, and Blaise was the closest thing she had to a friend here. Finally, she nodded. "That would be much appreciated."

Blaise nodded, beginning to stand up. "Dinner will be served in-"

"Why does she hate me so much?" Hermione asked suddenly, staring past Blaise into the depths of the bookshelves. Blaise paused, but before he could sit down again, Hermione shook her head. "Never mind, that was a stupid and irrelevant question."

Blaise pulled one of her hands away from tugging on the feather tip of her quill and clasped it. "Hermione, I highly doubt Pansy actually hates you."

Hermione snorted. "Does she treat everyone like that?"

"Perhaps with a little less venom, but in general, yes," Blaise answered truthfully.

"Then why are you dating her?" Hermione blurted out before she could stop herself.

Blaise chuckled. "It's a mutually beneficial relationship. I highly doubt it will ever evolve into more than that. Once it stops being so, we will part ways."

Men, Hermione rolled her eyes internally. It was always one thing with them. Would it kill them to look for an equal partner, not only sexually, but intellectually and personally as well? Perhaps she was expecting too much. Perhaps the best she could do really was Ron, even if it seemed like they didn't fit together.

"Dinner is ten," Blaise said softly, dropping her hand and leaving Hermione to her thoughts.

**AN: Hello everyone! So sorry for the very long update, but it took me a while to get over some nasty bouts of writer's block. That, and I've got an original novel that is semi-based on this fanfiction that I'm working on; my attention is going to be slightly divided from now on. I wish I could say I'll get another chapter to you in the next few weeks, but school is starting soon, so I can't make any promises. It could be within the next two weeks, or it could be in a couple of months. I will update as soon as I can, however!**

**So, please review, since I haven't heard from anyone in ages! What do you all think of Pansy? She definitely gives the appearance of a superficial b*tch, but as we saw with her protectiveness over Theo, she has a bit more to her than that. My question, though, is how many people would like to see her become friends with Hermione, or just get her b*tchiness served right back to her. Or we could have both… there's no reason we can't have both. How about Draco's letter from his mother? Thoughts on what Narcissa would be owling her son about? And how are we liking Blaise and Hermione's friendship? Good development? Too fast? Too slow? Too much? I initially was planning to have Blaise be fairly careless and superficial, but I feel that Hermione's only shoulder to lean on in Italy is going to be Blaise… until we get some Dramione going. Do we like caring Blaise? Or should we have more wealthy pureblood snobby-but-not-as-bad-as-Draco/Pansy-snobby? **

**Oh, and a lot of people were wondering about the rest of the Weasley family and how they all seemed to be against Ron/were on Hermione/Ginny's side even if they were too dramatic. So I left this scene for you all, because although I wasn't planning on writing it, this scene was going on behind the scenes. Do you agree with Molly's perspective? Do you agree with Ginny's? I hope I've sufficiently conveyed two valid perspectives on this situation, as well as the divide currently splitting the Weasley family. PLEASE REVIEW!**


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"Everyone ready?" Blaise asked. Hermione nodded, eager to start the day afresh. Yesterday's dinner had been awkward, to say the least. Malfoy had pulled back into his sixth-year broodiness, Parkinson had simpered and pouted, though her target was no longer Malfoy, but Blaise, and Blaise had been the only person interested in pulling Hermione into conversation. The only time conversation had flowed freely was over her brief summary of the important Italian laws, which still required an abundance of wine. She hoped that having something to do would prevent the same tension, though she knew that it was unlikely that she would ever, in any circumstance, feel comfortable with the Slytherins.

Parkinson grabbed Blaise one last time as he reached for the floo powder, pulling him into a sloppy, and quite _loud _smooch. Hermione uncomfortably shifted her weight from one foot to the other, eying the intricate marble carvings of the fireplace. She reached out to trace what appeared to be the Zabini family history, starting off as a large base of ancestors at the bottom that hoisted each of their children on their shoulders, who likewise supported their offspring until the branches finally met with a carving that looked like a young version of Blaise.

Malfoy cleared his throat loudly, looking pointedly at Parkinson and Blaise, who _finally _broke apart. "We don't want to be late," he said tersely.

Blaise nodded. "You'll meet us at the _Ministero_ at midday, yes?" he asked Parkinson. She replied in the affirmative, kissing him on the cheek once more before letting him go. Blaise handed a handful of floo powder to both Hermione and Malfoy. Malfoy went first, and Hermione followed.

"_Ministero!_" Hermione pronounced flawlessly before the blue, not green, flames engulfed her. She caught glimpses of hundreds of other fireplaces whizzing by her, the faint smells of ossobucco or lasagna sometimes lingering long enough for her to recognize the dish. She was deposited firmly into the fireplace of the Italian Ministry, and she stepped out into a hallway composed completely of grand marble fireplaces. Malfoy was waiting at the end of the hallway, so she walked to join him, Blaise following shortly after her.

"Where are we meeting the representatives?" Hermione asked Blaise as they walked through an arch into the main gallery, the dome above the circular room decorated with gold leaf and enchanted frescoes that rivalled the beauty of Sistine Chapel. To Hermione's surprise, classically Christian scenes were depicted on the edges, bordering the central tribute to Wizarding Florence's founding mother, Iacopa.

"I believe we need to check in at the security desk, there," Blaise gestured. Hermione followed the two men to a marble counter where, to Hermione's shock, was a house elf. This house elf, however, was well off, if his slim-fitting fine wool suit was anything to go by. It was a far cry from the rags that hung loosely off the British elves and the slavery Hermione was familiar with.

"_Come posso aiutarla?_" the house elf asked the trio. Hermione and Malfoy looked to Blaise, who responded so quickly that neither of the other two could catch his answer.

"_Un attimo_," the house elf said, sending off a silvery shape that looked similar to a patronus down another hallway.

"Forgive me, I forgot," Blaise apologized once he took in their confused expressions. "Translation spells will facilitate this meeting. _Eodemas linguare_," Blaise tapped his wand the tops of Hermione's and Draco's heads just as three men approached them. Two of the men looked eerily similar, their skin a deep olive and their high cheekbones angled so that it only added to their dark haired mystery. One of them was clearly older than the other, however, so Hermione assumed they were father and son, who looked to be about Hermione's age. The third man was quite a bit shorter and rounder, but had a similar skin tone and the same trademark tousled dark hair, despite the grey fringe scattered through.

"Greetings," the older of the two similar men spoke, taking the time to shake each of their hands. "My name is Stefano Medici, the Italian Minister. This is my son, Arnaldo," he gestured to the younger.

"Pleasure," Arnaldo smiled, swiftly pulling Hermione's outstretched hand to his lips. His dark hazel eyes bore into her, and she nearly trembled with the intensity of his gaze. Before she could blink, however, he had already moved onto greeting Blaise.

"And I'm Clemencio Medici," the plumper of the three men introduced himself. "I'm the current head of Medici Pharmaceutical. I look forward to working with the three of you."

"Four, eventually," Blaise corrected. "We are processing a scientific advisor currently, but we expect him or her to join us shortly. Until then, you will have to do with Blaise Zabini, Draco Malfoy, and Hermione Granger," Blaise indicated each of them in turn.

"Relation to Enzo and Emilia Zabini?" Clemencio questioned abruptly. "I was not aware they had a son."

"Nephew," Blaise answered simply.

"Ah yes, Tazia and Dante," Stefano nodded in recognition. "Your father was a good man. I was sorry to hear you and your mother chose to relocate to Britain, though I empathize with the desire for a fresh start. Give your mother my best wishes."

"My mother will appreciate your thoughtfulness," Blaise inclined his head. Throughout this entire exchange, however, Arnaldo's eyes had been firmly fixed on Hermione, and she was beginning to feel uncomfortable.

"And what have we done to be blessed by the presence of the brains behind Harry Potter's achievements?" Stefano turned towards her.

"Live in a beautiful country, of course," Hermione replied smoothly and genuinely, noticing Blaise's grin of approval in the corner of her eye. "That and international trade law is simply too good of a case to resist."

Stefano chuckled. "I do hope we will be able to provide a fair share of novelty throughout this experience. And Draco Malfoy, the wizard who singlehandedly recovered the British wizarding economy."

"You exaggerate," Malfoy smirked.

"Do I?" Stefano eyed Malfoy curiously. "Let us convene in a more private setting than here on the open floor. Come."

The five followed Stefano down one of other hallways that had opened out into the gallery. Hermione let out a soft gasp as she took in the beautiful paintings that decorated every surface but the marble floor. There were scenes from classic Greek and Roman mythology, both peaceful and terrifying as the moving subjects of each mural portrayed everything from the Birth of Venus to the grotesque minotaur. And on the next wall, there were shimmering halos adorning the angels from incredibly Christian imagery. Hermione had never seen religion so integrated into the wizarding world before, and her neck began to ache as she craned her neck to take in the enchanted illustrations above her.

"Your decor is stunning," Hermione commented once they had stopped, pausing as Stefano opened up a conference room. "I am impressed by how much religion and mythology you've depicted here."

Stefano smiled at Hermione. "It is our history. I am glad you can appreciate it," Stefano answered as he held the door open for her. Inside, they settled in, the plush leather chairs circling around a darkly stained ash wood table.

"I trust your trip to Florence went well?" Stefano inquired.

"Indeed," Blaise answered, "thank you for asking."

"Good," Clemencio nodded. "To business, then. Have you had the opportunity to review our proposals?"

"Yes," Blaise said, pulling a few files from a deceptively thin folder. "While we will have to wait for our scientific advisor to go over the data to make sure it meets British regulatory requirements, I thought we could begin by exchanging legal information relevant to this collaboration. We may have missed some legal restrictions in Italy in our research, and you, Minister," Blaise here nodded towards Stefano, "are in the perfect position to inform us of everything relevant."

Stefano nodded. "Do you have a summary of relevant British laws?"

Hermione took that as her cue, and slid a comprehensive compilation of her legal research towards the three Italian representatives.

"Excellent," Stefano praised, and Hermione smiled, oblivious to Blaise's tightening expression and Malfoy's frown.

"Do you have a summary of relevant Italian laws?" Hermione asked.

"Not at the moment, my dear," Stefano said. "I'll have Arnaldo compile a list of laws - and he will return a summary to you by Friday. Does that sound agreeable?"

Blaise took control of the conversation again, shooting Hermione a quick look, which she caught this time. "Of course, Minister. Thank you, Arnaldo, we look forward to your thorough and detailed synopsis."

"Naturally," Arnaldo responded, his eyes still on Hermione. She shifted in her seat.

"I think that will be all for now," Blaise said abruptly, standing up suddenly. "I am sure you will benefit from your revision of British law, and we will wait patiently for your breviary of our Italian counterparts. We may reconvene next week."

"Nonsense," said Clemencio, who, unlike the other ambassadors, remained seated. "We have barely begun!"

Hermione nodded in agreement, adding, "we have indeed scratched but the surface, Blaise."

Blaise smiled stiffly, but this time, Draco interjected. "While this is true, I believe it would be best for both parties to familiarize themselves with the other's freedoms as well as restrictions. It is a rather lot of jargon to go through."

"Of course," Stefano agreed. "And the next week is brimming with celebration, too! We must commemorate one of the first international cooperations in the wizarding world. Arnaldo, do you have the invitations with you for Wednesday night?"

"Yes, here," Arnaldo pulled three ivory envelopes from his suit pocket, handing them to each of the Brits. "I do hope you come," he said in a low voice to Hermione.

Clemencio, not one to be outdone by his cousin, fumbled around his pockets until he pulled out three envelopes as well. "My branch of the family will be hosting Friday night. We would be incredibly pleased by your attendance." Stefano chuckled patronizingly, and Clemencio flushed a light shade of red.

"There will also be a charity gala hosted on Saturday, so I caution your intake of dear Clemencio's wine. Though that shouldn't be a problem, as Clemencio's tastes are… unique," Stefano laughed softly at his cousin's expense. "The details are included in the invitations."

"We appreciate both of your generosities," Blaise replied firmly. "We look forward to it."

"Good," Stefano inclined his head, turning towards the door.

With a few more thank-yous and promises to attend their events, the trio made their way back towards the floo hallway to travel to the library. Just as Hermione was about to grab a handful of powder, however, Malfoy hissed behind her.

"What on Merlin's green Earth did you think you were _doing, _Granger?" Malfoy said, his eyes flashing.

Hermione, instantly on guard, narrowed her eyes. "What has the little mudblood done _now_?"

Malfoy flinched back in shock, and Blaise intervened. "_Not here!_" he hissed, shoving a handful of floo powder into Hermione's hand. "Go back to the villa," Blaise commanded. Hermione obeyed, calling out the Zabini villa before the blue flames swallowed her and deposited her into Blaise's fireplace. She angrily brushed the ash from her charcoal grey robes, frowning as she moved into the greeting room. What had she done to annoy Malfoy, this time? Existing?

Malfoy was next, stepping out of the fireplace without so much as a speck of dust clinging to his robes. He glared at her, stepping aside as they waited for Blaise.

Once Blaise arrived, he glared at his two advisors.

"You _never_, and I repeat, _never_," Blaise began angrily, "lose your temper in a _public _setting. I do not care if Draco has murdered your parents, Hermione. I do not care if Hermione has locked your mother in Azkaban, Draco. You are _professionals, _and it disgusts me that I must remind you when we are already in the heart of Italy _representing Britain_, for Merlin's sake!" Blaise finally raised his voice at the end. "Am I absolutely bloody clear?"

Hermione and Malfoy, chastened, nodded their heads.

"We deal with all of our internal conflicts _away _from the public, and bloody hell, _away _from the eyes and ears of the Medicis! This does _not _happen again!" Blaise shouted.

"I apologize," said Hermione.

"It won't happen again," Malfoy stated.

"Good, or you're _both _fired," Blaise threatened. Hermione clenched her teeth, and Malfoy inhaled quickly. "Now, what was the problem about?"

"He antagonized me," Hermione said pointedly, "but I was no better than him in my verbal retaliation."

"No you were not, but you are forgiven. Draco, _why _did you antagonize Hermione?" Blaise asked.

"She gave all of our bloody laws away!" Draco snapped, fuming.

"Again, while this is true, she simply did not understand the consequence of such a seemingly innocuous action. There are ways to educate Hermione and rectify the situation, _without _yelling and _without _embarrassing our entire country!" Blaise responded sharply.

Malfoy bowed his head in acknowledgement.

"Apologize to Hermione," Blaise barked.

Malfoy gritted his teeth. "My apologies, _Granger_."

"Apology accepted," Hermione said graciously.

"Good, now that that's settled, Hermione, we need to address your action today," Blaise sighed heavily.

"I'm sorry, but I didn't see anything wrong with giving Minister Medici the summary I had created for your benefit," Hermione said, confused.

"The issue lies with the fact that they are the Medicis, and as you noticed, very powerful. I assure you that right this moment, they have their best lawyers on the case, attempting to interpret and find every potential loophole in all of the laws you provided, quite thoroughly in fact. Notice how they did not provide us the same courtesy, despite the fact that they _asked _us. When you receive the summary this Friday, expect there to be crucial laws and details missing and certainly meanings obfuscated. The problem here, Hermione, is we no longer have legal leverage. And we need every bit of leverage we can get," emphasized Blaise.

Hermione's eyes had widened with each sentence of Blaise's explanation. "I'm so sorry.. I didn't know-"

"It's all right-" Blaise began.

"No," Malfoy interrupted. "It's not all right. Do not mollycoddle her, Blaise."

Blaise sighed again. "It's not all right, but we are early yet in the game. As a positive, Hermione will be more careful in the future, yes?"

Hermione nodded vehemently.

"And they will expect Hermione to be the weakest link - we can use that to our advantage."

"She's a woman, of course she'd be the weakest link," Malfoy commented snidely, only to be thrown against Blaise's wall with the sheer force of Hermione's nonverbal magic.

Blaise had jumped to his feet, pointing his wand towards Hermione. "Hermione, don't."

Hermione, shaking with fury, slowly let her wand arm drop to the floor, Malfoy crashing into Blaise's plush carpet as she did so.

"I suppose I shouldn't have thought that a prejudiced bigot would be anything _but _also sexist, chauvinistic _pig_," she hissed. "I hope you never encounter another strong woman in your lifetime, Malfoy. Merlin forbid your fragile ego be shattered by a _female_'s accomplishments."

Malfoy, now rubbing his sore neck that had been suffocated slightly under the force of Hermione's spell, simply glared at the infuriating witch.

"Enough," Blaise snapped. "Draco, I will personally _Crucio _you if you purposefully offend Hermione one more time. Hermione, for Salazar's sake, get your temper under control!"

Hermione nodded stiffly, breathing deeply to calm herself. "I apologize for my mistake in giving away our leverage, and in future meetings, I will wait for your verbal indication of what I should do, Blaise. I will also do my best to _not _let Malfoy infuriate me."

"Apology accepted," Blaise nodded. "Draco?"

"I will keep my tongue in check," Malfoy said begrudgingly.

"Am I your bloody father, Draco? Apologize to the woman!" Blaise yelled, finally losing his temper.

"I am sorry for purposefully inciting you, Granger," Draco bit out.

Blaise pinched the bridge of his nose, exhausted. "Both of you, floo to the library in Florence and research. Hermione, create your own summary of relevant Italian laws. I am sure you know to be thorough and detailed, because we cannot expect the Medicis to offer us the same favor. Draco, research the entire family trees of Stefano, Arnaldo, and Clemencio Medici. I want to know everything about them - all of the scandals, rumors, successes, failures. Everything, Draco. Since we ended our meeting earlier than expected, you both have two hours for additional research before we meet Pansy in Milan. We'll review what you both discovered after the shopping trip. Understood?"

Hermione and Malfoy murmured their assent, and Blaise dismissed them.

"And stay the fuck away from each other. I prefer actual progress over maimed advisors!" Blaise said irritably.

* * *

Draco groaned as he pushed yet another family tapestry diagram aside, burying his hands in his hair. He'd had enough Italian lineages and scandals to last a lifetime. It had proved fruitful, however, as the current head of Medici Pharmaceutical had only a few years prior been involved in a bitter bloodbath. He chanced a glance towards where Granger was sitting at the far end of the table, her nose deep into some large, dusty tomes. She was chewing on the end of her quill, on pausing when she found something worth scratching on parchment. Draco mouth twisted into a bittersweet smile. Despite the war and the last five years, she still had the exact same study habits. It was oddly calming to know that some things stayed steadfast in a sea of change.

Draco cast a quick _Tempus _spell to determine the time, and was pleased to note there were only a few minutes before he and Granger were due to meet Pansy and Blaise. His thoughts drifted to his mother's letter from the previous night, and he grimaced, huffing in frustration. His mother wanted to parade him in front of all of the eligible French witches like a bloody _peacock_. For Merlin's sake - her subtle _suggestion _that he return home over the weekend to meet a _charming _lady by the name of _Odile Richelieu_ was nauseating. Draco was almost certain that her name literally meant Wealthy and Rich.

Draco didn't even know how to respond to his own mother.

He started gathering up his notes, tapping the newspapers and books with his wand to send them back to their respective locations in the Florence Library. When he had finished clearing his space, Draco glanced again over at Granger, shaking his head at her hunched-over posture and her complete obliviousness to the time. He cleared his throat not once, but three times in order to get her attention.

She glared at him, annoyed that he had interrupted her careful research. "What Malf-"

"It's time. We'll be late," Draco said simply, cutting her off. Granger's eyes widened, and she hurriedly began sweeping her notes into her bag, tapping the books twice with her wand and watching them fly off the table to find their places amongst the shelves.

"Ready," she said stiffly once she was packed. They strode out of the library, settling on the marble steps in the front as they pondered what to do next.

"Do you have a portkey for Milan?" Granger asked him.

"No," Draco shook his head. "Perhaps Blaise expects us to reconvene at the Villa, first?"

Granger shrugged, her frizzy hair now escaping her bun. Draco frustratedly wanted to charm it all back in its place - how could she bear to present herself like this to the general public?

"Let's," Granger suggested. She held out an arm - her _left arm _to be exact, the one his crazy aunt had carved into while Granger screamed and bled out onto his floor - the same floor he had played on with his toy drago-

"Fine," Granger snapped, startling Draco out of his flashback. "I suppose if the _mudblood _germs are too much for you-"

"Granger-" Draco began, but she had already apparated away. "Bloody insufferable Gryffindor," he cursed under his breath before, too, apparating.

Draco found himself in the foyer of the Villa, where Granger was already stomping up the stairs calling Blaise's name.

"Granger!" Draco called, rushing up after her. "_Granger!_" He had an odd sense of deja vu as she spun around, her hair flying wildly again out of its normally perfect bun.

"I thought you would have had plenty of exposure to my _mudblood _existence for the day," she snapped, eyes sparking with anger.

"For Salazar's sake stop calling yourself that," Draco retorted sharply.

"What's it to you?" Granger shouted.

"I-" Draco paused realizing now that he had nothing to say to her. Well, nothing that wouldn't sound hypocritical and ridiculous considering his past colorful vocabulary.

"Thought not," Granger said, was that disappointment in her voice? and proceeded to clamber up the remaining stairs.

"I panicked," Draco blurted out suddenly, and she paused, her right foot on the very last step. He cursed himself internally - why oh _why _did he say anything?

She turned back to face him, slowly, her left foot pivoting. She looked at him now, inquisitively.

"Your arm," Draco gestured gruffly. "I- Aunt Bella. Sorry."

She tilted her head, and he shifted his weight to his left foot, feeling uncomfortable under her analytical gaze. Draco cleared his throat, looking now at his feet.

"I don't understand," Granger said softly, and Draco's head snapped up to look at her. "You say you have respect for me, and then belittle me. You say the most prejudiced, horrible things, and then you panic about my arm." She rolled up her sleeve - bloody hell, it hadn't even been _bare _\- and held her forearm out to him. The word mudblood was still clearly etched, the scar tissue lumpy and white in its raised relief. Draco shuddered, her piercing screams still echoing in his mind.

"It's hideous, I know," she muttered. "It's part of me: a constant reminder."

"I'm sorry," Draco choked out, hollowly. "I wish I could've stop-"

"No, I wouldn't wanted you to have," Granger waved him off. "You had no choice."

"That's not true-"

"Your mother would've been tortured and Avada'd. You would be dead," Granger said firmly.

Draco's mouth hung open slightly, shocked.

"I'm bitter," Granger said finally after a long pause. "I'm sorry. You haven't used in it in a while, and I appreciate that. Even when you're insulting me purposefully, you avoid it. I've noticed. It just… doesn't leave me."

Draco sucked in a breath, gritting his teeth as he pushed up his sleeve on his left forearm, too. Granger's eyes widened, taking in the faded Dark Mark, still contrasting sharply against his pale skin.

"Trust me, I know the feeling," Draco finally said.

"As touching as this _I show you mine_, _you show me yours _is," Pansy's nauseatingly shrill voice squeaked, "we have _shopping _to do."

**AN: Hello everyone! Apologies for the huge gap between updates. This past semester was incredibly rough, and I encountered a nasty bout of writer's block when I attempted writing this winter break. Luckily, I've gotten past it, just in time for you all before I start my next semester! I'm hoping you guys enjoy this chapter, and I'm sorry we haven't yet gotten to shopping yet. That was my initial plan, but somehow it just felt like the characters had reached a tension point that needed some emotional upheaval. I also desperately wanted a Dramione moment, which, as I confess the plans for Dramione are purposefully slowly paced, it was good to develop it more.**

**Please review! I miss hearing from all of you, and I'm sorry I'm so slow! How did you like the political maneuvering with the Medicis? Speculation about the potential scandals? Did you like the Medici characters? Do you think Arnaldo should go for Hermione? Did you think Draco/Hermione's outbursts were too much? Too little? Did you like the Dramione development? Too little/too much? How do you guys think I should write Odile Richelieu? I haven't decided if she's going to be an entitled, snobby bitch or if she'll be a sweet but boring airhead. Even if you have barely any time, please drop me a quick note to say hello! Miss you all!**


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Malfoy and Hermione jerked away from each other suddenly, shoving their sleeves back down to cover their wounds, Hermione's mind still reeling. Had Theo lied to her? The Dark Mark had clearly been there, and he had said, rather specifically, that Malfoy had never been marked.

Hermione could feel a headache coming on, and it was certainly not helped by Parkinson's high-pitched whine. The image of Malfoy's Dark Mark was vivid and firmly embedded in her mind, and she couldn't help wincing.

The crisscross scars through the mark hadn't escaped her notice, either. She could picture it now, Malfoy bent over his arm, furiously trying to remove it by force and gritting his teeth as each cut welled with blood.

Blood that was red, and certainly no more muddy than her own.

"Earth to Granger?" Malfoy snapped his fingers in front of her face, and she started.

"Sorry," Hermione shook her head. "It's…" Hermione searched for the right excuse. "It's been a long day," she settled for.

"I was supposed to meet you at the _Ministero_, and here you are," Parkinson complained from the foot of the stairs. "We're late. We have an appointment for custom fittings with L'ganza. Blaise is already there," she shouted.

"Why didn't Blaise come to get us at the library?" Hermione asked Parkinson as she walked towards her.

"Like he'd want to suffer in your presence any longer than absolutely necessary," Parkinson sniped. Hermione sighed. It was as if they were still roaming the halls of Hogwarts in their objectionably awful house colors. Parkinson held out what looked to be a beautifully cut, but exceedingly large, Swarovski crystal. "Come on, now, Granger," Parkinson said impatiently. "It will activate in a minute."

_Slytherins_, Hermione rolled her eyes internally. So adorably insecure that they had to flaunt their wealth at every opportunity. Could they be more predictable?

Hermione placed her thumb and forefinger on the excessively extravagant portkey, and Malfoy mimicked her actions. Soon enough, there was the familiar tugging at her navel, transporting them to the front of the L'ganza fashion house. Hermione's eyes widened as she took in the sheer enormity of the building - its tall arches towering over her and declaring "L'ganza" in black and gold lettering. She didn't get much time to take in the full grandiosity of Milan before she was shoved roughly by Parkinson, who glared at her.

"We're already late, for fuck's sakes, Granger," Parkinson hissed.

Hermione hurriedly followed the two Slytherins through the large double glass doors.

Blaise greeted them in the lobby. "Pansy, dearest," he kissed her firmly, but she quickly broke it off.

"Where are we expected? Are we too late?" Parkinson asked frantically.

"No. This elf will escort you to your dressing rooms where Daria L'ganza will greet you after you've selected your dresses. She has been a little overtime with another customer, so you merely reduced your waiting time," said Blaise.

Parkinson breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. Show me to my room," she commanded the elf, who frowned. "Blaise and Draco, be a dear and pick a few out for me, would you? Daring ones, please. And no yellow - it is _horrid _for my complexion," she called over her shoulder as the elf led her from the lobby into one of the many dressing halls.

"I believe this elf will help you, Hermione," Blaise motioned to another elf. It had perhaps the haughtiest expression she had ever seen, and she lived with Malfoy, Parkinson, and Blaise!

"Follow me," the elf said simply as he directed her down the same hall that Parkinson had just walked towards. The elf showed her into a small but luxurious fitting room, complete with a plush bench, numerous bars to hang outfits, and a small platform centered in an alcove of mirrors.

Hermione placed her purse down next to the bench. Straightening up and turning to ask the elf where to search for dresses, she was shocked to find that the elf was nowhere to be seen. Hermione frowned, sitting down on the bench awkwardly. She waited a couple of minutes, silently evaluating the room with nothing else to do. She looked towards the door, unsure if she was supposed to find dresses herself, or wait for an attendant. It seemed like the type of store where an attendant would first ask her questions, then select a representative group of dresses to try, and go from there. But it also seemed as if the only employees of the store besides the designer were elves, who didn't appear interested at all in their customers. Frustrated, she gave into the temptation of poking her head out of the room, looking up and down the empty aisle.

Silence.

Her lips twisted in contemplation. Deciding to risk the social blunder, she left her compartment, ambling down the hallway towards what she assumed would be the center of the store with various dresses to peruse. When she reached the end of the hallway, however, she could hardly breathe. The room was simply _enormous_.

The room itself had likely been enlarged with an extending charm, to the point where Hermione couldn't see where the walls ended. Each dress had its own box shelf, the lights around it illuminating every hand-sewn Swarovski crystal in just the right angle to maximize its sparkle. It would be impossible to shop for a dress in the normal manner… there were just _too many_.

Chewing on her lower lip, Hermione was just about to make her way back into her room when she spotted an incredibly thick binder, placed on a pure white quartz countertop. She made her way towards the binder, smiling as she recognized an _accio _catalogue. It was about the width of two and a half volumes of _Hogwarts: A History_. Hermione grinned.

A catalogue that small? And really only pictures?

Piece of cake.

* * *

Approximately half an hour of summoning dresses later, the little peace Hermione had been able to enjoy was abruptly shattered by Parkinson's shrill screech.

"_GRANGER!_"

Hermione, startled, nearly dropped the light pink evening dress she had just summoned from the catalogue. She fumbled with the hanger, placing it amongst her other picks, before exiting her compartment. "Parkinson?" she asked, looking down the hallway before being presented with a furious and frazzled woman.

"Get over here, _now_," Parkinson snapped.

"Godric give me patience," Hermione grumbled under her breath. "Why?"

"For Salazar's sake!" Parkinson threw up her hands in the air before violently grabbing Hermione's wrist and tugging her into Parkinson's dressing room. "So we don't buy the same _dress_. Brightest witch of our age, my _arse_," Parkinson snapped.

Hermione rolled her eyes before taking in the multitudes of dresses that Parkinson had selected. Blaise and Malfoy were seated on some of the chairs, reclined with the arrogant grace she had come to associate with all purebloods.

"Take a seat. I'm selecting, and unless you _really want one_, it's mine. I'm claiming it first," Parkinson said smugly. She paused. "On second thought, don't say anything. It's mine regardless. At least you will understand what trends are currently in, even if your taste is likely to be horrendous."

Hermione wasn't sure what to do but sit down in the only remaining chair, between Blaise and Malfoy. She held her tongue, refusing to give into voicing the biting remarks that were crowding to the forefront of her mind.

"I've never been a fan of shopping," Hermione muttered under her breath to Blaise, whose eyes widened comically.

"Oh my dear, dear, Hermione…" he trailed off snickering. Even Malfoy had an undeniable smirk on his face.

"You have _no idea _what you're getting into," Blaise finally answered, containing his unnecessary laughter. Hermione sunk a little farther into the plush comfort of her armchair, feeling completely out of her depth.

And completely out of her depth, Hermione was indeed.

* * *

After probably three hours of lace, far too much sheer, exceedingly low necklines, even lower _backlines_, feathers, tulle, ballgowns, and _so many sparkles_, Hermione was ready to vomit. Or keel over, because never in her _life _did she ever think she would have ever needed to see _that much _of _Pansy-sodding-Parkinson_.

Thankfully, Parkinson had settled on seven dresses, though she sighed dramatically that she might have to visit another store should there be an _eighth _social function. For the _hundreds _of designer gowns she had tried on, these seven were just _barely _acceptable. _Really, _the only reason why _L'ganza _would be receiving any of her galleons was because of the unacceptable time limit of the first few galas.

Hermione wanted to slap Parkinson. The number of galleons spent on these robes would surely have been enough to feed a small army for at _least _half a year!

Naturally after deciding on seven dresses, Parkinson _must _retry those seven, for _it's a pureblood woman's prerogative to change her mind_, and after all, Parkinson was _so _changeable!

The first dress, Hermione had to admit, was bloody gorgeous.

That is, if you really liked blood red as a color and paired with black in such a way that _screamed _dangerous femme fatale.

The bodice was a delicate combination of black sheer material and lace, fitted tightly in a corset that ran its way up to the bust and through the right arm's sleeve, ending at a three-quarters length. Blood red floral appliques wrapped around Parkinson's waist (where the black lace joined with a full black ball gown skirt) and diagonally across the front of the bodice to border the beaded back. Across her shoulder blades, strings of rubies sparkled like droplets of blood, twinkling dangerously as they caught the light. The red appliques were smattered across her collarbone and around her neck to end at the left shoulder, leaving her left arm bare. Parkinson's jet-black hair contrasted beautifully with the citrine embellishments on the dress, and even Hermione had to admit that Parkinson could be, amazingly, considered attractive.

But that was where Parkinson's good taste ended.

The next dress could hardly be considered a dress, for the material was so sheer, the only thing covering Parkinson's bits were the thin twining black lace vines that crawled up her sides and met in clusters to cover the more scandalous areas of Parkinson's body. Hermione could see, however, that the silhouette of the mermaid dress was appealing, and that even the tulle "tail" of the dress could be considered "pretty," but Hermione felt uncomfortable, staring only at Parkinson's pug-face.

The third dress was better, for the black floral and crystal appliques certainly constructed an opaqueness to the, _again_, sheer black material, allowing for the overall effect to begin to resemble clothing.

By the fourth dress, Hermione was really sick of seeing _black sheer_. It really shouldn't have been considered a suitable material for any dress in anyone's right mind, but Parkinson had chosen yet another one, with a plunging neckline that lent itself perfectly to _many _and _multiple _wardrobe malfunctions, in _addition _to its center slit, opening the floor length skirt just shy of an embarrassingly short length.

_Scratch that_, Hermione shook her head internally. It was _already embarrassingly short_.

_Plus_, there were _sequins_.

Hermione personally thought Parkinson resembled a scandalous Snape that had been glitter bombed.

But of course, Hermione kept these opinions to herself.

And incredibly, when _Malfoy _or _Blaise _chose to speak up, it was merely to critique the detail of the appliques or the lace, rather than the amount of _skin _that couldn't _possibly _be accepted in such a traditional society. With how backwards and positively Victorian Wizarding society seemed to be, she was surprised that Malfoy and Blaise both appeared to completely dismiss the monstrosity of leaving practically nothing to the imagination.

_Men_, Hermione scoffed.

The fifth dress, while black lace and a tulle mermaid skirt yet _again_, at least was supported by a cream colored under skirt. In fact, the black ruffles sweeping across the back of the shoulders was rather endearing on Parkinson, and Hermione was woman enough to admit that.

The sixth dress was a Frankenstein attempt at the first dress, minus, (gasp) the lace and sheer! The blood red and black complimented Parkinson's pale complexion well, but the asymmetric ruffling and interchange of red and black fabrics made the full-skirted ballgown look more like Parkinson had been _sectumsempra'd_ on her side and was bleeding out.

The last and final dress was an interesting take on nude and cherry red, with it's very, _very _low backline covered in a nude sheer with little red cherry buttons running up Parkinson's spine. The rest of the dress, was also nude colored, though, Hermione thanked Merlin, _not _see-through, with cherry red branches scattered across the fabric and pooling in floral details at the bust and bottom of the dress.

Hermione didn't think she had ever been more exhausted while sitting than now.

But then it was _Hermione's turn_, after Daria L'ganza had waved her wand, molding each of the seven dresses perfectly to Parkinson's figure.

Hermione and the three Slytherins made their way to her dressing room, where Parkinson instantly took to ripping apart the choices Hermione had made.

The first dress thrown on the floor was a pale pink ball gown with delicate floral beading.

"_Honestly_, Granger, are you an eleven year old princess?" Parkinson snorted after a quick glance.

Hermione gritted her teeth. _What was so wrong with wanting to feel like a princess_?

Blaise spotted a xanthic gown peeking out on the rack, and pulled it out. "Hermione, come here."

Hermione dutifully walked over, where Blaise draped some of the summer-yellow chiffon over her arm and chest.

"Mm, no, it's a gorgeous dress you've chosen, but it doesn't work with your skin tone," Blaise commented.

"Yellow hardly works on anyone," Parkinson muttered, before pulling out an indigo A-line satin number, complete with a sweetheart neckline. "Salazar's saggy sack, Granger, could you be any more _boring_?"

"I liked the color," Hermione said lamely.

"Draco, Blaise, go find her some acceptable dresses please," Parkinson said with disgust as she threw down a bright purple gown. "This is atrocious."

Hermione sighed, chewing her lip, watching tiredly as Parkinson threw down each and every single one of her dresses. So much for that.

"Ridiculous," Parkinson sneered. "Your taste is better suited for two year-old _child_, not a woman who has international power and influence."

"Please, Parkinson," Hermione bit out, annoyed now. "Feel free to pick out dresses for me, so that I don't have to listen to your whinging."

Parkinson flipped her hair over her shoulder. "Why, Granger, I thought you'd never ask."

Hermione clenched her fists, looking skyward and asking for any God, gods, or powerful beings up there to grant her patience.

Blaise, thankfully, had an excellent eye for cut and pops of color. He selected more than thirty dress robes that looked incredibly modern, with geometric shapes of various bright, blocky colors. But Hermione was less inclined to look like a modern art exhibit than what Blaise's taste lent towards, and asked if he had chosen anything more… classic.

Blaise smirked, holding a Slytherin green, floor length evening gown, complete with a layered bodice, semi-sweetheart neckline, black flower appliques running diagonally from the left waist to the bust, and a side slit that crept dangerously high up her left leg. Hermione gave him a dirty look.

"Hermione, I really think green could be a good color on you. Please try it on, at least," Blaise beseeched, shooting Parkinson a quelling glare when she giggled.

"All right," Hermione sighed, pulling the gown from Blaise's arms and dragging it with her into the little alcove to change. When she presented herself in front of the three Slytherins, Blaise looked smug, Parkinson looked viciously delighted, and Malfoy looked mildly amused.

"It's excellent on you, Hermione," Blaise complimented, and Hermione looked down at her hands, which were already twisting the expensive chiffon between her fingers.

"I can't disagree," Hermione said slowly, "but… this slit…"

Blaise opened his mouth to mention the fact that they _did_, after all, have _Daria L'ganza _to custom design any dress she so chose, but Malfoy spoke first, flicking his wand to float a slightly lighter forest green gown towards Hermione. She caught the dress, eyeing it critically before nodding. She quickly changed and stood in front of them again.

All three were oddly silent.

"Well?" Hermione asked nervously.

"Turn around for me," Blaise muttered, and Hermione followed his instruction.

"It's so bloody _Granger_," Parkinson snorted, finally. "Other than the Slytherin colors, the simplicity, the gathered draping of the acromantula silk, the light gauze, the little beading along the v-neck… I must say, I'm impressed with Daria's layering. She knows how to mimic an _almost_ handkerchief hem, but it was simply genius to layer it on top of a normal sheath piece underneath it to create the perfect silhouette."

"Yes, then?" Hermione smiled. She really did like this dress. It was simple, classic, elegant, and beautiful.

"Yes," Blaise affirmed, Malfoy nodded once, and Parkinson shrugged.

"Little bookworm cleans up well," Parkinson sniped. "Not her usual frumpy outfits, if you could call them that. _Rags_, really. Our own little Cinderella."

Blaise had a couple of other classic choices. One was a kermes trumpet dress, which, despite having a small panel of sheer in between the bust and the skirt, was tastefully done and didn't give Hermione quite the same violent reaction to most of Parkinson's choices from earlier in the day. Blaise also picked out a dark navy blue, long-sleeved mermaid-A-line that fit Hermione perfectly without alterations. The only "interesting" part, Parkinson had lamented, was the incredibly thin almost-belly-button low slit that gave the illusion that Hermione was wearing a smartly fitted blazer than an actual dress robe. Even Malfoy commented, however, that Hermione would look quite formidable with a classic updo - perhaps a French twist. Hermione got that one, as well as the red one.

Parkinson's choice dresses, however, were simply ridiculous. Each dress became more and _more _sheer, and if not sheer, then _lace_, and if not _lace_, then plunging backlines and necklines that would surely require a hefty amount of sticking charms to last the evening without an embarrassing wardrobe malfunction. Sometimes, Hermione noted with horror, it was all _three_.

Embarrassingly enough, one of the sheer dresses actually caught her attention. The agean blue A-line dress was covered with intricate beadings, sparkling as if the dress had captured a thousand snowflakes mid-fall. Apart from the sheer skirt that completely bared her legs (besides the occasional beading), Hermione couldn't deny that the dress made her feel like an odd cross between a water nymph and an ice queen.

"Frigid." Parkinson scoffed. "But the sheer makes you a little more flexible than the prude you are, so it's acceptable."

Blaise waved Parkinson's comments off, smiling kindly at Hermione. "You look stunning in that. You should get it."

"_Thank you_, Blaise," Hermione said pointedly, ignoring Parkinson. Blaise smirked, while Parkinson huffed in annoyance.

Surprisingly, the remaining three dresses were all _Malfoy _picks. The first one was a one-shoulder golden number that was draped so that she shimmered not unlike a Greek goddess. The second one was a regal gown in silver silk, with the shoulders fringed with beading reminiscent of epaulettes.

The third one, however, was, as Parkinson coined it, "a classy fairy princess without the pre-pubescent hideousness." And Hermione loved it.

The top half of the gown was a sheer bateau panel with branches of cherry blossoms climbing from the waist up to her collarbone. Cinched with a small black ribbon, the skirt dropped into a beautiful lavender grey, layers of chiffon rippling in soft waves.

Even Malfoy was speechless.

Blaise smiled. "This is the one."

Malfoy made a slightly strangled noise, before Blaise rolled his eyes and dragged the ferret out of the room. "Pack the seven we chose, get Daria to fit them, and meet us out front."

It hadn't even been a minute after the two men had left that Daria L'ganza came bustling in, poised but ruthless. Her blonde hair had been twisted up in an elegant updo, and despite how efficiently she moved about the room, not a strand was out of place.

"Which ones?" she asked sharply.

"These seven-" Hermione began, but before she knew it, Daria flicked her wand towards the lavender dress, waved her wand to meld itself to Hermione's every curve, and moved onto the next six.

It was the fastest fitting Hermione had ever been through.

"Modifications?" Daria asked.

"No-" Hermione said.

"Good, Ms. Parkinson, I appreciate your business as always," Daria waved Hermione off. "As usual, the dresses you've selected are the one and only ones produced. You have my guarantee that no copies will be found, short of counterfeits."

"Excellent," Parkinson nodded. "I look forward to doing business with you again."

"Thank!-you?" Hermione trailed off as Daria L'ganza exited the dressing room as quickly as she had come in.

"Close your mouth, Granger. You'll catch nargles, or whatever that _Looney _girl used to pratter on about." Parkinson grabbed hold of Hermione's wrist, about to drag her out of the dressing room. "Cannot _believe _I had to waste hours on a peasant who can't even appreciate good fashion, _filthy _excuse of a _mudblood_."

Hermione wrenched her arm out of Parkinson's claws, fuming. The _bitch. _"At least when _I'm_ dating someone, I know it's because that person is genuinely interested in me despite my _tainted heritage_. At least I'm not judged by how _filthy _I am on the _mattress_." Hermione instantly regretted her retort, but it was too late.

_SLAP!_

Hermione's eyes widened, her cheek throbbing from Parkinson's hand. She figured she probably deserved that one, but _why _did Parkinson have to be such a _bitch_?

"How d-dare you," Parkinson stuttered quietly, voice shaking with rage. Hermione had always seen malice in Parkinson's eyes, but this time her black eyes flashing with pure hatred and pure _pain_.

Hermione bit her lip, torn between apologizing and standing up for herself. It wasn't as if Parkinson hadn't infuriated her in the first place… but Hermione decided to be the bigger person. The agony in Parkinson's eyes made Hermione soften her next words. "I'm sorry, Parkinson, that went too far."

_SLAP!_

**(AN: Trigger warning for sexual assault and suicide. Skip to the next AN)**

Hermione winced as Parkinson landed another blow to her face, her left cheek stinging. She didn't give Parkinson the satisfaction of stepping back, however."Don't give m-me… false _fucking apologies_," Parkinson sneered. "You don't even know _the half of it_, you mudblood _bitch!_" Parkinson was trembling, her body nearly radiating with fury. "_How dare _you parade your self-proclaimed purity in front of me," Parkinson snarled, her wand now emitting sparks. "_How dare you _defile my relationship, my _only anchor _in this forsaken world, and debase the _one person who will accept me for who I am_? _How dare you presume _to know the status of my chastity, and in your ignorance ignore the blood rituals, torture, and sterilization measures all _truly pure _families take to _ensure _their daughters' only worthwhile _property_? _How dare you insinuate _that I am spoiled goods? That my _gift_," Parkinson spat, her tone poisonous, "has been _given freely_? That it hasn't been _forcefully ripped _from my petrified, defenceless, tortured, and drugged person by a man who could've been your _father_? That my _gift _hadn't been offered to _murderers_, taken, and caused me to be _disinherited_ because I was a useless pair of unmarriageable _legs_ that had been offered by her own _parents _on a _fucking silver platter? _That when my own younger sister, the only family I have left, _overdosed on sleeping potions, _I had to find out from _Daphne fucking Greengrass last night _because my own parents would rather be childless than associated with _damaged property_?

**(AN: You're good from here on out! Thank you for being so strong.)**

_How fucking dare you?_" Parkinson was crying now, her eyeliner and mascara streaking down her face.

Hermione was stunned, to say the least, her own tears running down her sore cheeks. She didn't know what to say. Her heart ached for this girl, who had been betrayed by the very people who should've protected her. This girl, still standing tall and proud, despite having her self-worth abused and dragged to Hell and back. This girl, who had just lost possibly the only person who loved her in the world unconditionally.

Words didn't seem like they could capture the raw emotions that tore through Hermione's heart, nerves, body.

Not knowing what else to do, Hermione flung herself towards Pansy in an embrace and held the girl tight. They both sank to the ground, surrounded by the finest, _purest _fabrics and crystals that money could buy.

And they cried.

**AN: Apologies I haven't updated in… what, half a year? Maybe more? Yikes. Life's gotten crazy, and that's all I can really say. Anyone who's still following this story - thank you so much for sticking with me!**

**I'm not sure I'm quite pleased with how this dress shopping turned out. I've had massive writer's block for a good portion of this summer, and this felt a little mechanical, rather than my normal flow. The one thing I am pretty happy about is how much more Pansy development we have here, which is something I also didn't expect to happen but felt more organic, frankly, than the rest of this chapter. I think this whole chapter could probably be better executed, but I just felt like I needed to get it out and up on here before it'll get better. That said, I could just be really out of it, and it's possible it lived up to (or exceeded) your expectations. What do you think? Please review! Hopefully more chapters coming soon, but I won't promise anything since you know how life goes. Doing research full time, working on a nonprofit, teaching piano… yeah. It's a little nutty. Miss you all and can't wait to hear from you guys!**


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Ginny frowned as she stood in front of the mirror, having caught herself choosing the exact shade of nude-pink lipstick that Harry always liked. He always seemed to prefer a more understated look, with only a hint of foundation and blush, and never anything dramatic around the eyes. She had always appreciated that about Harry, how he liked her natural beauty.

But sometimes, she had itched to experiment… be a little more… _daring_.

Perhaps more… _dangerous_.

Hermione would be appalled by the looks that Ginny wanted to try. She could hear her friend's voice in her head now: "But you're so _naturally _gorgeous, Gin, you don't need to cake your face with paint! Why wouldn't you wear a mask, at that rate?"

Or: "Honestly Gin, you'd look like an Inferi with your eyeshadow like that."

Merlin, she missed that girl. She wondered briefly on how Hermione was getting on with the Slytherins. The girl could hold her own though, so Ginny figure she ought to be pitying Malfoy and Zabini, not the other way around. Especially when Hermione had a whole sack of Weasley goodies stashed away - Ginny snorted. She hoped Hermione had an interesting story by now, for Ginny couldn't wait to hear it.

Ginny made a mental note to owl Hermione after dinner. Well, actually, Ginny supposed she'd do so after her _activities _with Michael were finished.

_Harry wouldn't have ever done such a thing on the first date_.

Ginny groaned. Thoughts like these were why it was so hard to escape him - she'd have to escape herself.

And really, why was it so difficult to get Harry Potter out of her head? She was a single lady now, ready to take the world in stride without a care for any suitors falling at her feet. Michael might turn into something more, but as far as Ginny was concerned, he was just someone to get her mind off of Harry.

_Because that worked so well last time_, a sly voice in her head astutely pointed out.

Pushing all thoughts of the green-eyed boy out of her mind, Ginny spread out the numerous makeup supplies she had purchased and sighed at the huge percentage of nude and light pink shades of everything: lipstick, blush, eyeshadow, (even _bronzer _for Godric's sake), you name it. It was incredibly _safe_.

A little too safe.

Moving past her day-to-day sets, she fumbled around in the medicine cabinet to see if she even _had _anything a little bolder. And - there! - in the very back corner, still unopened and collecting dust, was a bright red lipstick next to a dusty smoky eyeshadow palette.

Popping open the cap, she grinned.

It was time for the world to meet a new Ginevra Molly Weasley.

* * *

"Why hello there," Ginny smirked, delighted at Michael's gaping expression. She fluttered her eyelashes, which were ridiculously long after she had tried (for the first time) a lengthening charm. Her _teeny _black dress provided a sharp contrast against her hair and lipstick.

Michael stuttered a bit before clearing his throat. "_Ginevra_," he said finally, and it sounded like a sin coming from his lips.

"Yes, Michael?" Ginny smiled, for once, _loving _her name and the way it rolled off his tongue.

"You are…" Michael searched for words, his eyes trailing down her Quidditch-hardened frame. "Breathtaking. Positively glowing."

"Thanks," Ginny said, taking his arm once he offered it. "You're looking quite dapper yourself."

Michael murmured his thanks as he directed them out the front door and into… a horse drawn carriage?

"Really?" Ginny laughed. "How much more cliche can you get?"

Michael smiled lopsidedly. "Well, my entire relationship with Susan seemed to come straight out of a romantic comedy."

"Oh? So why are _we _also using this method of transportation?" Ginny was momentarily distracted by the quiet _whuff _of the horses' noses blowing air as they nuzzled her arm.

"I thought we might do something absolutely terrible for our first date," Michael said.

That caught Ginny's attention. She frowned. "I thought the point of dates was to hope that they _weren't_ terrible?"

"Not our dates. Rebound dates are always bad, so I thought it'd be fun to make them worse. I thought we could go to every place that's been significant in our previous relationships and moan about the memories," Michael stated goofily, though there was a tenseness to his voice.

Ginny threw her head back and laughed, and Michael relaxed. "That _is _a terrible idea, Michael."

"I thought so," Michael snorted, before opening the carriage door. "After you, m'lady."

Once they had settled into the carriage, Ginny turned to Michael. "So, where to?"

"I figured we'd probably want food, so I thought I'd bring you to the same restaurant that I went to with Susan on our first date."

"And that was-?"

"The Dill Seed Dryad."

"Hmm, good choice. At least we'll have good food. Not too expensive, either." Ginny nodded her head.

"You've been there before?"

"Oh yes, a couple of times for dinner with one of my teammates for her baby shower. Nothing spectacularly interesting, except she _did _go into labor during the party. Baby just wanted to join the celebrations, I suppose," Ginny laughed.

"Ah, well, I suppose I'll be the only one reminiscing horribly for dinner, but I thought afterwards we could do a location special to you and Harry?" Michael asked.

"I know just the place," Ginny smirked. "I won't even build up to it: I'll bring you to the place where Harry proposed."

Michael's jaw dropped. Ginny's smirk grew impossibly wider.

"I-I-" Michael stuttered, but before he could get the words out, the carriage stopped right in front of the Dill Seed Dryad. Ginny opened the door and exited the carriage, Michael stumbling after her. She sashayed up the pathway, leaving him practically speechless. Shaking himself, he rushed to catch up with her, barely making it in front of her to pull the door open for her.

"Oh," Ginny smiled, her hand fluttering to her heart. "And they say that chivalry is dead."

"You're welcome," Michael snorted, finally finding his voice again.

* * *

"Granger!" Parkinson's shrill voice penetrated through the bathroom door.

Hermione sighed as she finished with a last flick of mascara. "Yes, Pansy?"

Pansy paused, slightly thrown off by the use of her first name. "Are you ready?" she asked simply. Too simply. Almost… _polite_?

"Just about," Hermione answered as she opened the bathroom door. Hermione did a slight double take as she, again, saw more bits of Pansy than she ever needed to see. "Are we going?"

"Yes," Pansy frowned as she looked at Hermione's bare wrists and neck. "Don't you have any jewellery?"

"I'm not usually a fan," Hermione shrugged. Pansy shook her head in disgust.

"Not wearing a necklace with that delicate a neckline is a crime. It's like having a cupcake without the frosting," Pansy scoffed. "_Accio gold ruby set!_"

"Pansy, you don't have to-" Hermione interrupted as a simple heart-shaped ruby necklace, earrings, and matching gold bracelet flew into Pansy's hands.

"Nonsense, I can't be seen with a peon," Pansy said, grabbing Hermione's wrist and linking the bracelet it. "Turn around so I can do your neck."

"Girls!" Blaise called from outside the room's door. "We'll be late!"

"You know a party _never starts on time!_" Pansy shouted back through the door. Once the necklace had been hooked and the earrings placed, the two women exited Hermione's room and walked with Blaise towards the foyer. Malfoy was waiting, glaring at them in his perfectly tailored black robes.

"Took you lot long enough," Malfoy grunted.

"Again, the party does not _start _until _after _I arrive," Pansy said, rolling her eyes.

"Enough, we're off," Blaise chastised, sticking out his arm so he could side-apparate them.

Hermione stumbled forward slightly in her gold heels upon apparition, but someone caught her before she fell too far. She turned to thank- Malfoy?

"Thanks?" Hermione said, but she was so shocked that the word came out more like a question than a statement of gratitude.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow before offering his arm. "Shall we?"

Confused, Hermione looked towards Pansy, who had taken Blaise's arm. Pansy rolled her eyes and jerked her head towards Malfoy, indicating that Hermione ought to "bloody take his arm," even though she didn't have to verbalize it.

Hesitantly, Hermione looped her hand through, and Malfoy escorted her into the Medici Villa behind Pansy and Blaise.

The building was enormous, but the party was taking place outside in the garden centered in the middle of the villa. After greeting their hosts briefly (Arnaldo's mouth lingered on Hermione's hand a bit too long), the four Brits congregated in one of the corners of the peristyle that surrounded the open air courtyard. Each was holding a thin flute of pink champagne, except Pansy who had opted for a shot of limoncello.

"So now that we're here, what did you find about our dear representatives? Anything good?" Blaise asked. "You can point out each of them as they pass by us."

Malfoy snorted. "The amount of dirt on this family is astounding. Let's start small and work up, shall we?"

Hermione nodded, frowning slightly.

"Are you all right, Hermione?" Blaise asked, noticing her tense expression.

"I just… I've never done this before. Search for leverage the same way," she explained.

"Is the goody-Gryffindor uncomfortable?" Pansy asked snidely, though there was less bite to it than normal. Hermione thought that was odd.

"Yes," Hermione answered frankly. "I'm out of my element, and I can acknowledge that."

Malfoy turned to her. "But you've been an ambassador to countless other _species_."

"And in all of those negotiations, there was none of this side-stepping and political angling," Hermione huffed. "It was straight forward. Blunt. They appreciated it. I appreciated it when they returned the favor. I've never had to understand their culture by finding their weaknesses and going after them. I do _direct_, none of this..." she waved her arms around. "This," she frowned, unable to put words to their situation.

"How strange," Malfoy commented, and Blaise smirked to himself. A world without intrigue and consistent maneuvering? What type of world was that?

"Anyways," Blaise directed the conversation back.

"Let's start off with the Medici family tree, shall we?" Malfoy suggested, and Blaise nodded in affirmative.

"Stefano Medici, our dear Italian Minister over there," Malfoy gestured with his glass, "is the son of Ceasario Medici and his ex-wife Messalina Medici. Their divorce was classic: Ceasario couldn't keep it in his trousers and, of course, impregnated his current wife with Stefano's half brother, Rinaldo. Ceasario is currently married to Rosalia Medici, and both are quite healthy despite their age."

"Are Ceasario and Rosalia in attendance?" Pansy wondered.

"I don't see them here, but I wouldn't expect them to be. Messalina lives with Stefano, so it might be a tad _awkward _if Daddy Dearest and his younger wife attended the gala," Malfoy snorted.

"More on Stefano?" Blaise asked.

"Naturally. Stefano's wife, Allegra Medici, is deceased - heart problems, so nothing quite so scandalous there. Stefano didn't even find a new wife after her, so it wasn't a convenient death, either."

"Probably didn't want to after he saw how awful it must have been for his mother," Hermione said softly.

Malfoy shrugged. "As such, Stefano's only son is Arnaldo, with whom we've met. He is considered Italy's most eligible bachelor and is likely to take the position of Minister when his father retires. So far, Arnaldo's been spotless. Even his breakups have been clean and well-executed. No girl has gone to the gossip rags to throw his reputation into the dumps," explained Malfoy.

Pansy scoffed. "Greedy idiots," she sniffed. "They probably could have made more money if they had sold their story in a series of interviews instead of being bought off by the family."

"No weaknesses to ascertain yet, but we could ask Pansy to flush Arnaldo out," Malfoy suggested.

"I have a better idea," Blaise smiled.

Malfoy snapped his head towards Blaise in shock. "Oh?" he asked, a little _too _evenly to be natural. Blaise tilted his head towards Hermione.

Hermione's eyebrows furrowed. "Me?"

Malfoy snorted. Hermione glared at the blond, but he shrugged. "I'm sorry, but I highly doubt you're the best choice for playing the seduce-his-secrets-out-of-him game."

"Fair," Hermione conceded.

"It has to be you, though," Blaise pushed.

"Why me?" Hermione asked.

Blaise gave her a knowing glance, waiting for her to make the connection. He didn't have to wait long before it clicked.

"You noticed it too, huh?" Hermione asked frustratedly.

"You imply his overkill eye contact and stalker-like observation?" Malfoy snorted.

"Precisely," Blaise nodded.

Hermione bit her lip. "I suck at that game," she grumbled under her breath.

"I can give you pointers," Pansy shrugged dismissively. "I'm sure you'll get it in no time. You're a quick study."

"No," Malfoy said sharply. The other two looked at him oddly.

"If Arnaldo is interested in Granger, he'll see right through her. She needs to be herself - making all of the sociopolitical blunders-"

"Hey!" Hermione interrupted, but he continued right over her protest.

"-that she would be expected to make. Granger needs to be authentic and encourage his being open with her. If she tries to play the game she's never played before, it will be awkward and a greater disaster than if she simply were to step on his toes. He'll underestimate her. We need that," Malfoy concluded.

"Watch out," Pansy muttered over the fourth shot glass she had just downed. "Speak of the devil, and he shall appear."

"Ah, Blaise," Arnaldo smiled as he approached them, a beautiful lady on his arm. Hermione's eyes narrowed. There was something about this girl that was familiar. "Draco, and," Arnaldo paused slightly, "Hermione." It was almost a sigh, with how soft his voice had become.

Pansy's eyebrows were raised sky-high.

"Pansy, was it not?" Arnaldo asked smoothly. "I trust you're enjoying yourselves?"

"But of course, the rose champagne is simply delightful," Malfoy said. "You haven't introduced us to your lovely compan-"

"Nessie?" Blaise asked, shocked.

"Blaise Zabini," the green-eyed, raven-haired _bombshell_ stated boredly. "Why am I not surprised to see you here?"

"Nessie… as in, Lynessa Sterling?" Hermione put two and two together. Nessa and Nessie Sterling both had the signature Sterling locks: so black that it shimmered blue in the right light. Though their general facial structure mimicked one another, that was where their similarities ended. Nessa had deep blue eyes and a strong, pointed nose, while Nessie's pale green eyes and delicate button nose matched her softer set of cheekbones. "You're Nessa's younger sister!"

"Glad to finally meet you, Hermione," Lynessa smiled. "Nessa constantly chatters on about you, and somehow, you've never made it over to our place. She's here somewhere, I'm sure you'll find her."

"You four know Lynessa?" Arnaldo asked, though Hermione could tell his surprise was feigned.

Blaise had recovered himself, though his smile was stiff. "Yes, we knew each other quite well back at Hogwarts."

Lynessa's small smile widened dangerously. "Quite well, indeed."

"What brings you to Italy, _Nessie_?" Pansy asked. "What a coincidence we run into each other!" Hermione's cringed at Pansy's honey-sweet tone, chock full of poison.

"Oh the typical," Nessie smirked. "Family visiting families, making arrangements."

"Oh? Whose?" asked Pansy.

"Well, the Caruso's, naturally, as they're my cousins. They recommended I meet Arnaldo and his father, Stefano, and well, here we are," Lynessa smiled up to her date.

Blaise's glass suddenly shattered in his hand, and he looked at the shards embedded in his palm, shocked.

"Mother of Merlin!" Hermione gasped, pulling out her wand and vanishing the debris away as Pansy removed the glass from her boyfriend's hands. Malfoy began muttering healing spells, watching in concern as Blaise's skin began to knit back together.

Blaise cleared his throat, wincing as the rest of his wounds healed. "So sorry for the mess, Arnaldo."

Arnaldo smirked. "There's no need to worry. We always clean after our guests have arrived."

"Arnaldo, is that _Aurelia Agosti_ over there?" Lynessa asked, distracted by a severe-looking blonde woman.

"I do believe so, yes," Arnaldo nodded. Lynessa looked at him questioningly. "What?" Arnaldo asked.

"I didn't realize your family was so… liberal." Lynessa shrugged. "I'm pleasantly surprised, that's all. She's quite a legend. You must introduce me, Arnaldo. I'm sure Hermione's heard of her."

"We've actually met," Hermione smiled fondly. "She and I worked on a case together surrounding illegal trafficking of magical creatures. She worked an embezzlement angle, and she's quite the impressive prosecutor."

"You haven't met her, Lynessa? I thought she was affianced to Luca in all but formality," Arnaldo frowned.

"Oh, Luca, that sly dog," Lynessa grinned. "It's likely because it isn't formally contracted yet. Introduce me!"

"But of course." Arnaldo bowed his head towards the rest. "I'm sorry, but Lynessa has spoken. I hope you all have an excellent rest of the evening, free from injury or other mishaps. Hermione," Arnaldo smiled once, before departing.

"What the hell, Blaise?" Pansy hissed. "One pretty face from your past swings by and you smash your glass? Control yourself!"

"I didn't smash my glass. I was holding it normally," Blaise snapped back. "Either Arnaldo or Lynessa cast a wordless reducto, but it wasn't my natural strength, I can assure you."

"Definitely Arnaldo. He'd rather his possible fiancee avoid making googly eyes at another Italian Stallion," Malfoy snorted after examining Blaise's now healed hands.

"No way," Hermione laughed. "That was all Lynessa. Arnaldo probably wouldn't want to jeopardize our relations, but Lynessa has no such restrictions. She's still bitter."

"What on Earth does she have to be bitter about?" Malfoy asked.

Blaise looked at Hermione oddly. "And how would you know all this?"

"She's friends with Vanessa Sterling - girls gossip. Get over it," Pansy snapped.

"What did you do to her?" Malfoy asked, turning to Blaise. "When did this happen? And how is that I'm the only person who doesn't know what happened?"

"You were concerned with other things during sixth year," Blaise said. Annoyed, "Back to the Medicis. We'll have to see if-"

"Wait. Possible fiancee?" Hermione asked, reprocessing Malfoy's earlier words.

"Keep up, Granger," Pansy sniffed. "Families meeting families? Making arrangements? Her cousins told her that she needed to be introduced to Arnaldo and his father? What else?"

"Oh," Hermione sighed. "This is exhausting."

"About that," Blaise cut in, "we'll have to see whether or not Hermione will actually have any influence on Arnaldo. We don't want her to destroy her reputation either."

"Right," Malfoy agreed. "Look, over there. That's Martino Medici, Stefano's one full brother, by Messalina that is. He is married to Mariella, and he's attempted a few acts of minor sabotage in the hopes that Stefano will step down from the Minister position and hand it to Martino. Each has failed, however, and he is largely considered a power-hungry idiot. There are rumors that Mariella has attempted to seduce Stefano in hopes of becoming Stefano's second wife, but no such luck so far. They have four children. The eldest is Massimo Medici - there, by the fountains - a promising political candidate. Next is the sister, Mafalda, in the deep purple there, no, Blaise, with the gold curls, yes, has released her own designer handbag line and is currently working on a perfume line. Finally are the twins, Marcello and Manuele. Both are still in school. I think Marcello is studying law or political science at University of Bologna, and Manuele is studying medicine at University of Verona. I think the pair of them are talking to that violist."

"Muggle schools?" Hermione asked. "Those are _muggle_."

"The Medicis don't care about nonmagic influences. Their heritage lies in muggles, and it's well-known to the Italian wizarding aristocracy," Blaise sighed.

"Disgusting," Pansy said.

Hermione took a step back as if she had been slapped.

"Pans," Blaise warned, but Hermione was already backing away, deciding she'd have more luck finding Nessa somewhere in the party than sticking around with the three Slytherins.

Hermione fled to another crowd of people who had gathered around a small reflecting pool, seeking out her best friend. She had just spotted a head of raven-hair when she collided roughly against another person.

"Oof!" the man grunted.

"Merlin, I'm so sorry," Hermione apologized. "I just spotted my friend, and-"

"Hermy-ownee?"

Hermione looked up and found-

"Viktor?" Hermione asked, startled.

**AN: Hello, hello! Here's an update for you all just in time for the holiday season. Hope you're still with me - please review! I haven't heard from all of you in so long! Finals are rough, but I'll be done soon, so maybe we'll be able to squeak out another chapter or two before the next semester starts. Thoughts on Lynessa-Blaise dynamic? Thoughts on the new Pansy-Hermione relationship? How about Viktor Krum? Drop me a note below!**


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Hermione laughed as Viktor spun her around, her dress billowing in a memory danced and her hair frizzing in a smile beamed. When he set her back down properly, she straightened her robes before refocusing on her former beau.

"You are lovely," Viktor complimented her. Hermione blushed. "Red?" he asked, gesturing to her scarlet trumpet gown, and she nodded. "Very… Gryffindor vos it?"

Hermione laughed. "Indeed. It's not quite the right shade of maroon, but I suppose old habits are hard to eliminate."

Viktor smiled. "School vos a long time ago."

"It was," Hermione agreed. "What have you been up to since? I don't keep myself updated much about Quidditch, but I've heard that you've been incredibly successful here and there."

"It has been so-so," Viktor admitted. "Victories? Many. But it vill be time to be retiring soon. Younger fliers are fast. Soon, faster than me."

"I think you've still got it in you," Hermione said.

"Physically, maybe. But inside… in mind - I am not knowing." Viktor sighed. "It vill be time for me to move on."

"Do you know what you'll do after your Quidditch career?"

Viktor shrugged. "I am not sure. Vill need to explore new things - perhaps healing. Quidditch injuries lead to many healer visits, and I am grateful to these healers. But healers need lots of training, and I vill be very behind."

Hermione nodded. "It is a rather long time investment, but if it's something you're passionate about, I'm sure you'd excel at it. You've never been one to back down from a challenge, and your work ethic is quite unparalleled. I'm sure you'd give the Hufflepuffs a run for their galleons."

"I vould very much like to haff been a Hufflepuff, if I go to Hogwarts," Viktor nodded. "Cedric and his house vere special, very special."

Hermione nodded solemnly. "The first of many lives claimed in the second war. But enough about wartime-"

"Do you still haff bad dreams?" Viktor interrupted, peering at her.

Hermione was startled by his pointed inquiry - blunt, transparent, and honest. It was like being doused in a bucket of ice - awakening her need for clarity in a muddled mess of political maneuvering and hidden implications. That was Viktor, and she drank him in as if she were an iris deprived of water.

"Always," she answered honestly.

Viktor wanted to ask more, but Hermione had spotted Nessa approaching them.

"Nessa!" Hermione practically squealed, her smile breaking wide into a grin. She launched herself into Vanessa's arms, ecstatic. Nessa chuckled, patting Hermione on the back until they separated. "What are you doing here? Do you know Viktor?"

"Of course I do, I invited him," Nessa smiled. "Lynnie is entertaining the Medici family, and I figured I'd tag along."

"Yes, I spoke with Nessie and Arnaldo earlier. Are they dating?"

Viktor snorted, and Nessa shook her head at him. "Dating is a soft word for their families' interests," Viktor explained to Hermione's quizzical look.

"I thought your parents weren't like that," Hermione noted to Nessa.

"They're not, but the Medicis are. And Lynnie isn't one to turn down a gala, as you know," Nessa answered.

"Vhy do you call her Lynnie vhen others say Nessie?" Viktor asked curiously.

"Not sure," Nessa shrugged. "Mother and father always used it as a way to distinguish those who were close to us, and those who weren't. It's a Sterling matter."

"Well anyways, you two are a sight for sore eyes! The last week has been exhausting," Hermione admitted.

"I bet," Nessa said. "You reside with Draco, Pansy, and Blaise. I'm not sure what you expected."

"Drah-koh? Malfoy?" Viktor inquired.

"Yes, that's the one," Nessa said. "He's the financial advisor to Blaise Zabini."

"Yes, blonde one. I remember him vell. Fleur says something once - I am thinking bad faith. Good heart, but bad choices," Viktor nodded. "Mother of Drah-koh is visiting Delacour family. Narcissa is wanting wife for Drah-koh, looking now in France."

"Really?" Hermione mused. "There was supposedly talk between the Greengrasses and the Malfoys about an engagement, but Draco found out that Astoria was cheating on him. I think he probably ended the discussion, but I wouldn't have expected Narcissa to move on so quickly."

"You've clearly never really met Lady Malfoy," Nessa snorted. "Or any pureblood mother, really."

"Well, the last time I was acquainted with Lady Malfoy, I think I was screaming and wetting myself as I bled out on their dining room floor. We didn't have the opportunity to hold a long conversation between the Crucios, so I can't say I know her very well," Hermione said casually. "I may not have left the best first impression, but I would have been distinctly displeased had I been in her position as Lady of the House."

"Oh Hermione," Nessa began, but Viktor was frowning.

"You vere tortured at the House of Malfoy?" Viktor asked.

"Yes," Hermione said simply. "Malfoy's aunt did a number on me." Hermione waved her hand over her left forearm, which had been previously unblemished under the disguise of multiple glamour charms. Viktor traced the raised scars, bending forward to bring her forearm to his lips for a brief kiss. His eyes hardened.

"And Malfoy did not protect you? A lady?" Viktor asked, his voice lowering with anger.

"It was war, and he was on the other side, regardless of how begrudging or not he actually felt about it," Hermione shrugged, wordlessly reapplying the glamour charms.

Incensed, Viktor scanned the crowd quickly with a trained seeker eye, immediately spotting Draco's platinum blond head and strode over.

"No, wait- Viktor," Hermione hissed, following the Bulgarian. "Nessa, help," Hermione cried frustratedly as she wobbled in her stilettos.

Nessa grimaced, shooting a cushioning and stabilizing charm at Hermione's feet before rushing after Viktor. "Viktor," Nessa called, "it's in the past!"

But she was too late. Viktor's wand was out, and Draco Malfoy had crumpled to the floor, clutching his abdomen. Pansy screeched, dropping her champagne flute to the floor where it splintered into crystal shards. The other women nearby fainted, and guests started shoving their way away from the scene.

"Oh my Godric," Hermione cursed, shocked. "Viktor, STOP!"

"Expelliarmus!" Nessa shouted, catching Viktor's wand.

"Incarcerous!" Blaise cast simultaneously, tying Viktor in ropes. All around, the female guests were jostling - whether away or towards the commotion remained to be determined.

"Draco, oh my Godric," Hermione gasped as she knelt towards him on the floor. Each of his breaths was belaboured, his arms twitching slightly from the aftershocks of the spell. "What did you do to him?" Hermione asked Viktor.

"Simple discipline spell," Viktor frowned, struggling against his bonds. "Not very extreme."

"What on Calenda's Earth is happening here?" Martino Medici shouted as he pushed his way through the crowd. Arnaldo and Lynessa appeared shortly after, followed by Stefano and Massimo.

"Vannie?" Nessie asked concernedly, seeing her elder sister in the middle of the commotion. "What happened?"

"Viktor found out about some of the Malfoy family's war crimes against Hermione, and he felt the need to… discipline Draco," Nessa explained.

"Did you Crucio him?" Hermione, shocked, asked Viktor, who still didn't understand what the big fuss was about. Draco's breathing had only just started to even out, and he slowly pushed himself to a sitting position.

"No," Viktor shook his head. "Similar, but for discipline, not torture."

"Is this common in Bulgaria?" Blaise asked.

Viktor shrugged. "Ov course. Settles scores quickly vithout lasting damage."

"It's common in Bulgaria," Martino mocked, eyes flashing with malice. "As an international Quidditch star, by now you should know that your cultural norms do not apply in other countries."

"Martino," Stefano barked. Martino sneered at his brother. "It is a simple matter of cultural differences. Do not make this greater than a small misunderstanding."

"Small?" Hermione hissed as she attempted to help Draco back onto his feet.

"Get off," Draco grunted, shaking off her grasp on his arm. "I'm fine."

"No you're not," Hermione countered, waving her wand over him to wipe the sweat from his brow.

Blaise then took control of the situation. "Ministero, would you happen to have an on-hand family healer to examine Draco?"

"Not dangerous," Viktor called, "he vill be fine in a few minutes."

"Can't say the same about you," Martino's wife, Mariella snapped. "Someone remove this heathen from our household!"

Arnaldo intervened. "Now, Viktor Krum is an invited guest. It is a simple misunderstanding, Zia Mariella. I'm sure that now that Viktor understands that Bulgarians are a little stronger than the rest of the world, he'll act accordingly, yes?"

"Yes," Viktor nodded, still glaring at Draco. After a pause, "I apologize." Blaise vanished the ropes.

Blaise looked at Draco, who begrudgingly nodded in acknowledgement. "Apology accepted," Draco grit his teeth, inhaling sharply.

"You still should haff protected her," Viktor growled. Draco's eyes snapped towards the Bulgarian, stormy with guilt.

"I know," Draco said so softly that Hermione almost missed it.

"Here, we have Doctor Grimassi to help Ambassador Malfoy," Stefano gestured to the family healer who had been summoned. Draco had mostly shaken off the effects of the spell and followed the healer into the villa for a few diagnostic spells.

Blaise clapped his hand onto Viktor's shoulder. "I'm sorry that there was such confusion, Viktor. Those types of spells are a little strong for someone as British as Malfoy, though his family, of any family involved in the War, deserves it the most. But Hermione, you've gotten past that, have you not?"

"Of course," Hermione nodded, still reeling with Draco's admittance. "Draco has been cleared of all charges by the Wizengamot, Viktor. If he had tried to save me from his maniacal aunt, he wouldn't be alive today. He's done a lot for the community since the War, and no sane person can expect Draco to have sacrificed not only himself, but his mother to the darkest wizard of known history. He was a boy, Viktor."

Viktor shrugged, though his anger had dissipated. "He should haff protected you," he repeated firmly.

"I think the most important part of this whole situation is how it highlights the ability for people on the opposite sides of the War to reconcile and work together to improve the world," Blaise spoke, louder now to the crowd that had gathered. "Hermione and Draco were both children - we all, really, were children - caught in a War that demanded us to make adult decisions with life threatening consequence. And for these two people, on so very different sides and raised in environments with so very different ideals, to befriend each other and collaborate to save lives with the amazing innovations by Medici Pharmaceutica, now that's the real magic. Inspiring." Blaise raised his glass (that seemed to have been summoned out of thin air) to Hermione and Draco, who had reappeared upon clearing a few diagnostic spells. "A toast to you two, my friends. Thank you both for teaching us what it means to forgive and move forward. You give us hope."

"Hear, hear," Arnaldo and Stefano smiled, also raising their glasses. The rest of the guests soon followed suit, and the clustered attention on the Brits slowly ebbed.

"I think we can call it a night," Nessa said to Viktor, who agreed.

"Hermy-ownee," Viktor grabbed Hermione's hand, and Draco shifted himself towards the two, almost protectively. Nessa, tilting her head slightly, squinted at Draco, whose eyes had flicked to Hermione and Viktor's joined hands.

"I am sorry for today, but vill you let me make up it to you?" Viktor asked. "Dinner, before I am returning to Bulgaria?"

"When you Crucio'd her colleague?" Parkinson asked shrilly.

"Hush, Parkinson," Hermione snapped before refocusing on Viktor. "I have to decline, Viktor. I'm sorry, but I'm very busy with the negotiations-"

"My dear, we will make sure to allow you suitable dinner time," Stefano interrupted. "Do not worry about our schedule."

"Dinner, yes?" Viktor pressed. Nessa frowned behind him, and Hermione hesitated. Blaise watched as Arnaldo's eyes brightened.

"Owl me, at the Zabini Manor. We'll find a time," Hermione said finally.

"All right. Goodbye Hermy-ownee," Viktor smiled, kissing her hand before stepping back.

"Hermione." Nessa hugged Hermione before whispering in her ear. "Watch out for the Cascioferras," Nessa whispered quickly and then drew back. "We'll have dinner as well sometime. Nessie and I will be here for a few more days, and I have a week's worth of British gossip to confer to you."

Hermione was still reeling from Nessa's whisper, wondering if she had heard right. "Y-yes," Hermione stuttered, recovering. "Of course. For what is a lady to do without gossip?" Hermione emphasized, watching Nessa's expression carefully. Nessa smiled, and Hermione had a gut feeling that Nessa was pleased that Hermione had understood… something. What that something was remained to be identified.

"Oh it's simply dreadful, I'd die without my weekly dose. I wonder if the muggles are the same way," Nessa tittered. Hermione blinked in shock. Nessa didn't titter. And had she just emphasized the word 'die' and 'muggles'?

"Indeed, how curious," Hermione responded slowly, still processing.

"We'll take our leave then," Nessa said abruptly, accepting Viktor's proffered arm and departing the party.

By the time Hermione turned back to the gathered group, Martino Medici and his wife had left to find a new target to vilify, and Stefano, Arnaldo, and Lynessa excused themselves to speak with some of the other guests. Only Draco, Blaise, Parkinson, and Hermione were left.

"Are you all right?" Blaise asked Hermione. She knew then that he had caught onto Nessa's layered statements.

"Yes, just… bewildered, honestly," Hermione answered. She turned to Draco. "Are you all right? You were the one who was cursed!"

Draco looked at her, and Hermione didn't know what to make of the expression he presented her. There was something behind his eyes, but she didn't know him well enough to understand what it meant.

"He's fine, Granger," Parkinson answered for him. "He was actually just pointing out the half-breeds."

"The what?" Hermione snapped, frustration rising.

"Half-breeds, you heard me the first time. And they call you the Brightest Witch of Our Age," Parkinson sneered.

"She means," Blaise intervened, pointedly glaring at Parkinson, "that Draco was explaining the background of Stefano's half-siblings, through Caesario and Rosalia's marriage. They were just introduced to us before Viktor made a scene."

Hermione ground her teeth, and Draco looked at her, shocked.

"What?" Hermione snapped.

"Purebloods don't-" Draco began harshly, but from another pointed look from Blaise, rethought his phrasing. "It is not a favorable presentation to ground one's teeth audibly within these political circles."

Hermione deflated a bit once he rescinded his 'pureblood' terminology and nodded slowly. "I'm sorry, it's a bad habit amongst muggles, too. My p-parents were always after me when ground my teeth, but it was one of my forms of rebellion that I never quite shook." Hermione hoped that no one had noticed her slight slip, but they had. They chose not to comment.

"Even the muggles consider it barbaric?" Parkinson asked condescendingly. "How fascinating."

"My parents were dentists. They were unnaturally obsessed with oral hygiene," Hermione attempted to explain, but at their confused looks, sighed. "Teeth healers. We don't have magic to fix teeth, so they use other techniques to do so."

"Interesting," Blaise said at the same time that Draco said "Strange."

"Anyways," Hermione gestured for Draco to continue with his background.

"I'll start from the beginning since you were absent," Draco acknowledged. "Under Caesario and Rosalia's marriage, we they had two children. The first is Rinaldo, the second is Cadenza. Rinaldo is married to Gianna, and they also have two children: Valentina and Cosimo. Valentina is just graduating this year, and Cosimo will be following in a couple of years. Cadenza married Filippe Pluchino and had a daughter, Constanza, who is little over four years old, I believe. That covers most of Stefano's branch of the family."

"Nothing juicy?" Parkinson whinged.

"Not particularly. They understand that they aren't in the direct line of inheritance and have been humbled by a few rumors that Rinaldo was conceived and borne out of wedlock, but the official records claim that Rosalia delivered Rinaldo nine months after marrying Caesario."

"All right, how about Clemencio's branch?" Hermione asked. "I don't know that I've seen him here at all."

"This side of the family is a little… spicier," Draco smirked. "Clemencio's father, Tiberio, is the brother of Caesario, so Stefano and Clemencio are brothers. Tiberio and Dorotea had both Clemencio and his younger brother, Cirilo Medici, who, despite his age, is unmarried. It appears however that Tiberio's branch of the family is about to die out, however, as Clemencio's past is riddled with death."

"Do tell," Parkinson smirked. "Don't keep us waiting."

"Clemencio was initially married to Aryana, who gave Clemencio a son, Niccolo. There were countless reports of domestic abuse from both parties, and Aryana eventually left Clemencio. However, a week later, she was found dead. She had contracted a deadly and thought to be extinct strain of Dragon Pox. The Medici family appears to have Clemencio's branch control the pharmaceutical side, while Stefano's side, as the direct descendant of the first born Caesario, appears to have inherited the political power. Regardless, the Medici family is rumored to store vast supplies of biological weapons, including both muggle and magical plagues. Nothing could be proven, of course, so the public eventually moved on from the tragedy."

Hermione looked mildly sick, while Blaise was simply unsurprised.

"Next was Feliciana Caruso, who Clemencio was courting for approximately four or more months. However, when he left Feliciana and his son, Niccolo, alone in his villa one night, Niccolo 'accidentally' drowned in the pool. Feliciana claimed that she had been on the other end of the home, and when she went to check on Niccolo, found his already lifeless body. The tragedy, however, was only complete when Feliciana committed suicide shortly after. She threw herself from the fourth floor balcony, headfirst into the patio below. Of course, she was nude, tortured, and bruised. The obvious conclusion was a suicide," Draco concluded sarcastically.

Hermione was covering her mouth in shock. Even Parkinson was mildly shaken.

"That explains the rift between Stefano and Clemencio. Beyond the obvious difference in inheriting political power, Stefano and Arnaldo are unlikely to want to associate with such a scandal. I can't imagine that any of the other famiglias would want to align with Clemencio's branch either."

"We have to work with these people?" Hermione asked.

"Chin up, Granger. The Ministero approaches," Blaise muttered through the side of his mouth, and Hermione plastered a smile onto her face.

**AN: Hello my lovely followers! Thank you for bearing with the increasingly long update times, as other things unfortunately get in the way. So sorry that I didn't get around to responding to all of the wonderful reviews last chapter, but I definitely will do so this time around! I'm curious to see what your reaction is to the scene with Viktor. I wasn't expecting to bring him into the story, but I thought it would be interesting, and it took a turn I wasn't quite expecting. Do you think it was uncharacteristic of him? Do you think it was not extreme enough, given that he's from Bulgaria, typically associated with much Darker Arts? Would you like to see him again?**


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

"Thank goodness for you," Hermione breathed a sigh of relief once the waiter had left. "I'd be about to launch one of George's stinkbombs at Parkinson if I spent another minute in that villa."

"Why don't you disappear into the muggle world?" Nessa asked. "It's not like the three of them would ever follow you there - plus you get to be a tourist free of hotel costs!"

Hermione stared at Nessa. "I'm so incredibly dense. That's brilliant. Why haven't I thought of this before?"

Nessa chortled. "Parkinson's lack of mental capacity has drained you of yours, it seems. The pureblood assumptions are working their way into your mindset."

"That's a scary thought, but isn't that the truth?" Hermione grumbled. "Help me, Nessa. If I have to hear one more mention of originator claims that the Medici family owns, I might explode. Not _one _of their researchers - outside of the family mind you - owns a single claim! Not one! Apparently, Arnaldo is either a fucking child prodigy for discovering a cancer therapeutic at age eight, or-"

"Or the Medici family has bribed, threatened, killed, or otherwise coerced the real inventors to give up their intellectual property. I thought you were smart, Hermione. This isn't an either/or question unless you're wondering which torture method they chose."

"I know, but it sickens me, this corruption," Hermione groaned. "At least, the originators claims that Clemencio holds are more credible, but how are we ever supposed to trust a therapeutic that A, doesn't give credit to the actual researcher with scimagic knowledge, and B, was 'invented' by an eight year old? How am I supposed to possibly justify this to the British government? It won't fly. And they refuse to change it. All they have to do is file the international originator claim deferring credit to the company itself rather than Arnaldo, and no one would question who actually created it. I still have an issue with that, by the way, but it would solve everyone's problems. It's a _reasonable _solution."

"You directly challenged them on this?" Nessa asked, eyebrows raised.

"How is Blaise supposed to face the Potion and Cures Board and claim that this revolutionary cancer therapeutic was invented by an eight year old with _no _scimagic background? How on Earth will they approve that for consumption by our citizens?" Hermione asked exasperatedly.

"What are Draco and Blaise's thoughts on the matter?" Nessa asked.

"That as long as the science proves it helps people, who are we to deny cancer patients the cure that could save them?"

"Fair," Nessa conceded.

"I thought so too, but the person who actually created the cure doesn't get any of the benefits for her ingenuity. Not to mention, a corrupt government and pharmaceutical company never just do _one _suspicious thing. The rabbit hole _always_ goes deeper."

"Also point for you," Nessa nodded.

"So…" Hermione trailed off.

"So, I can't tell you what to do, because I'm not the one being paid to advise Blaise," Nessa raised an eyebrow.

"I know _that_," Hermione muttered. "I'm just venting."

"Not to add to your burden, sweetheart, but I do have to warn you of something," Nessa lowered her voice and cast a wordless _muffliato _to prevent eavesdroppers. "Do you know who the Cascioferras are?"

"No," Hermione frowned. "I presume this is to what you were referring during Stefano's celebration?"

"Indeed. There's a muggle mafia family by a similar name, and rumor has it that that family is no longer muggle…"

"What do you mean no longer mug- the _Medicis_," Hermione gasped, suddenly comprehending. "How reliable are these rumors?"

"Rumors about as real as Dad's tracking of the finances now forgoing muggle currency exchange; transactions are going straight to Gringotts from the Italian Bank. As real as the newest owner of the flat across from yours - an alias well-known to be associated with the Cascioferras."

"They have _hit men _outside of my flat?!" Hermione nearly screeched.

"I want you to try something, Hermione."

"But Ginny! She's living there right now! You need to get her out of there, Nessa."

"She's been informed and is being monitored by our own MLE officers."

"You get Terry Boot to move in right next door - I'm calling Harry, regardless of he and Gin's breakup, honestly I overreacted to the Ron thing anyway-"

"It's been taken care of, Hermione. It will also likely be over if you just listen to me and try something."

"Try what?" Hermione asked, still unconvinced.

"Roll over on the originator claims. Stop contesting them. We'll see if the Cascioferras leave."

"How can I _do _that? There's a researcher out there who's been cheated of her creativity and intelligence? There are people who could die if this therapeutic isn't what they say it is!"

"They're sending a message, Hermione. Do you want Ginny's blood on your hands? You need to play this carefully."

"You think I don't know that? What type of message do I send if I give into their threats?" Hermione blustered. "They'll take advantage of my weakness - whenever something isn't going their way, they'll just threaten me again. They'll come after my parents, Harry, Ron, the Weasleys, even you, next-"

"Why do you think Lynessa's been on Arnaldo's arm for the last week? We play this game all the time. Three months ago, it was the Japanese. Having your dad as Chief Analyst on the International Confederation of Wizards' Financial Organisation's board has its dangers, and we'll be able to handle ourselves. Your friends, though… that's why you've got to roll over. The Medicis don't know that you know about the Cascioferras - you have a shot of making it through this without them interpreting it as a direct result of their movement of the Cascioferras. Though you could potentially appear weak to them now, they'll end up trying the same thing again later, which you can anticipate and prepare for. You'll also know what's really important to them, and those pressure points are valuable for your negotiations later. Think about this, Hermione - it's not worth risking your friends right now over this. Now you know that they place value on keeping all intellectual property within the family, and you can _use that_," Vanessa explained. "I know it's weird for you to think like a Slytherin, but you need to now. You need the strategy of the Slytherin and the strength of the Gryffindor. Only then will you succeed."

"And Crabbe and Goyle thought like Slytherins?" Hermione asked skeptically.

"No, but they were taught to. That's the main reason why all purebloods from the old families insist that their children be Slytherins. If you can't think like a Slytherin, or at least know how they operate, you're as good as swimming in a lake of Inferi. It's not all about ambition or pretentiousness. It's how you survive."

"I'm dead, then. Twice over," Hermione said miserably.

"You've got Draco and Blaise, heirs to two of the longest surviving families. I can't teach you everything, for I'm needed in Britain. Ask them to help you."

"Why are you needed in Britain? In fact, why are you even working if your father's so fabulously well established?" Hermione questioned, narrowing her eyes.

Nessa smiled. "What's the last case you remember me working on?"

Hermione hesitated. "The Raviskilovs? An immigration, or illegitimate child claim?"

"Yes, outcome?"

"In favor of the Raviskilovs. For many good reasons."

"Who are the Raviskilovs?" Nessa asked, looking at Hermione intently.

"Russian wizards… wait, aren't they the last remaining cousins of the former Wizarding Tsar? They must be the only ones left who have a claim to the throne after the revolution." Hermione's eyes widened. "Oh no Nessa, please don't tell me you falsified that result just to curry favor."

Nessa became annoyed. "Have the last two years taught you nothing about me? Emphasize _facts_? Yes. Dig for the truth and manipulate people to turn them favorably for the truth? Of course. _Falsify_?" Nessa pushed her chair back and stood up. "Roll over, Hermione. Get Draco and Blaise to teach you. You're dealing with snakes. Learn how to be one and learn how to see one."

"What did your family gain, though? Votes for the IWFO? Russian assets?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Nessa scoffed before leaving the table and a paranoid Hermione behind.

* * *

"Do not _fidget_, Draco. How many _times _to I have to remind you?" Narcissa snapped as Draco readjusted his robes awkwardly, a bouquet of blue cornflowers in one hand. "Honestly, you call yourself an adult."

"We're here," Draco interrupted, holding back a snippy remark. The gates parted as their thestral-drawn carriage brought them down a sweeping, long driveway, pebbled with rocks that looked to be imported rose quartz. _It was rather pink_, Draco thought with disdain.

A house elf greeted them as the carriage slowed to a stop in front of the beautiful marble staircase that led to the entrance of the chateau. Though by no means small, the building itself was by no means the sprawling estate that Draco expected, for the building appeared slightly shorter and less wide than the Manor's front view. Draco supposed though that he had not seen the interior, and perhaps it made up for the entrance in depth and space. He suspected, however, that the beautiful vineyards and gardens surrounding the building were the focus of the Richelieus, rather than the chateau itself.

Once Narcissa had been helped out of the carriage, they made their way to the entrance, hanging just far enough behind to be out of earshot of the elf. "New money," he noted to his mother, referencing the house's foundation of a specific type of imported stone that would not have been accessible earlier than the late nineteenth century. Narcissa agreed.

"Watch for alcoholism," Narcissa nodded to the vineyards. "It is a little more emphasized than proper." Draco chuckled at the framing that held the clusters of vines - the telltale glint of gold seemed ostentatious for even Draco's taste.

"Yes, Mother," he murmured just before the mahogany doors swung open. The house elf directed them towards the drawing room, where the Richelieu family as well as the Delacour family were congregated. Jean-Louis Delacour smiled and stood up to greet them.

"Ah, Lady Narcissa, _c'est un plaisir de vous revoir_. Young Draco has grown into a man! Please, let me introduce you to Henri Richelieu, his wife, Arkina, and their beautiful daughter, Odile. Henri, Arkina, Odile, may I introduce you to Lady Narcissa Malfoy and her son, Draco Malfoy," Jean-Louis declared. Draco noted Arkina's name, which, as Narcissa had informed him, was Armenian.

"Monsieur Richelieu," Draco smiled as he firmly shook Henri's hand. "Madame Richelieu," Draco bent over her hand to kiss it lightly. "And the lovely Mademoiselle," Draco kissed her proffered hand and presented her with his bouquet. He noted, simultaneously, the large wine cabinet that adorned their drawing room, of all places.

"Why, thank you," Odile smiled beatifically. She was perfectly polished, dressed in the finest fabrics that money could buy and her hair artfully done. Her features were an interesting blend of delicate French arches and strong Armenian prominence - her wavy dark hair and deep green eyes were enchanting, and Draco said as much. "Enchanté, Mademoiselle." She giggled.

Draco internally sighed. It always went south when they giggled.

He made his way around to greet the rest of the Delacours: Apolline, Gabrielle, and of course, Fleur. He was slightly surprised when Bill Weasley was present, but considering that Fleur was heavily pregnant, Draco reflected that he had simply been surprised since he had forgotten that Fleur had married the wolfish Weasley. He supposed that Bill was the best of the lot - even in the Slytherin common room, there had been girlish hushed whispers and a certain amount of respect amongst the boys.

And as the conversation began, he could tell it was about to be a trainwreck. Odile's charming, but just a pitch too high, voice rang out.

"Monsieur Draco, would you tell me who crafted zhe lovely coat of yours? It is poseetively dasheeng!"

* * *

'Blaise," Hermione called as she sat on one of the benches outside the villa overlooking the ocean. He and Parkinson had just returned from their walk, but Blaise motioned for Parkinson to continue on as he spoke with Hermione.

"How can I help you, Hermione?"

"Were you a Death Eater?"

Blaise was taken aback by her bluntness, but he shook his head. "No. Never."

"Why not?"

"They killed my father. My mother and I could never stomach the idea of joining such an organisation. We had plans to pull out of England and retreat back to Italy if they began hunting us down."

"And Draco?"

"Hermione," Blaise sat down on the stone bench next to her, staring at the ocean. "You know he didn't have a choice."

"I heard that Draco wasn't a true Death Eater, and even if he were, I'd understand. But he has the Mark - I've seen it."

"Do you know about the Marking process?" Blaise asked. Hermione shook her head in the negative.

"When you're first recruited to the Death Eaters, you're given a tattoo. It looks like the Mark, but it has none of the magical properties of one. It's not much different from normal ink. Now, when you kill a person and perform the right… rituals, on the Dark Lord's orders, the magic activates. Then, the Dark Lord can call you at any time, torture you, communicate through it. That is the _real _Mark. Draco was tattooed, but when he failed his task to kill Dumbledore, the magic never activated. The Dark Lord needed to trust his Death Eaters, in a twisted way. Whenever you form a magical connection, with enough strength, it can go two ways rather than just one."

"Oh," Hermione said softly, nodding in contemplation. Blaise looked at her oddly.

"Has there been something bothering you, Hermione?" Blaise asked.

"There's always something bothering me," she said, her voice a little distant as she stared out into the water. Blaise waited for Hermione to elaborate, but she remained silent. Blaise listened to the calming thrum of the ocean crashing against the rocks below, the wind whistling through the gardens. He tore his eyes from the view and examined Hermione, who was still lost in thought. Eventually, Blaise moved to stand up from the bench, but Hermione's words stopped him.

"The Cascioferras are sitting right across from my flat back in London. Ginny's living there."

Blaise froze. "But don't you live in WIzarding London?"

"Yes."

Blaise shuddered at the implications - somehow, the Medicis had not only converted an entire muggle family to a wizarding one, but also located Hermione's home and one of her friends. It could be a coincidence, but his mother's constant reminders echoed in his head.

_The universe is hardly so lazy_.

So it had to be taken as a threat, but was it meant to be one?

"How did you hear about this?"

"The Sterlings."

"Nessie's father?"

"Apparently."

Blaise's mind went in two different directions - this was good, for the Medicis hadn't made a move to really test Hermione, and her actions as a result of this would not be pinned down simply to the threat made to Weaselette. But this was also very, very bad. This could become deadly.

"We should stop these negotiations. We're pulling out," he said suddenly, and Hermione's eyes snapped up to him.

"No, we can't do that!"

Blaise looked at her, confused. "Your best friends are in danger - _lethal _danger. What on Merlin's green Earth do you think staying in these negotiations would do?"

* * *

"I'm not asking you to marry her now, Draco. Just a simple dinner, a bit of champagne, and a few flowers. To thank her for her _time_, at least. Do not be rude. The Delacours risked their reputation for this introduction," Narcissa insisted.

Draco suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. "Of course, Mother, but do not expect me to continue seeing her after a dinner conversation about the latest frilly _lace _pattern and how _artistic _the latest Shelna Seductra romance novel is."

Narcissa was a little startled by Draco's biting sarcasm. "That was all Severus, there."

Draco sighed, the memory of his godfather bittersweet. "At least she _can _read," Draco sniped.

"_Draco!_" Narcissa admonished. "With those attitudes, you will never find a wife."

Draco sneered. "If I cannot tolerate her inane chattering, how do you expect Lucius to make it through our wedding without _Avada'ing _her?"

"How dare you address your father like so?" Narcissa turned on him, furious. "Your father is still barely recovering from the Dark Lord's magic, still so strong after so many years. Because of _you_, Draco. You are more important to your father than the consequence of facing the Dark Lord's punishment for betrayal. The very _least _you can do is address you father with the proper respect that he deserves!"

They had had this argument before, many times. If Draco wanted to, he'd respond with his typical stubbornness that it shouldn't have taken his son nearly dying to galvanize Lucius into action, and Narcissa would respond heatedly in kind. But something had changed, and Draco was suddenly just so very, very tired.

"When he recovers," Draco said slowly, and Narcissa looked at him in surprise. His tone of exhaustion was unexpected, and it worried her. "I'll have a very long talk with him. But he will have to _earn _my respect back."

Narcissa was silent, and Draco approached her to kiss her on her cheek. "Don't worry Mother. It will work out the way it is meant to."

"If only you really believed that," Narcissa said shrewdly as Draco approached his international portkey back to Italy.

Draco didn't know what to say to that.

* * *

Draco entered the villa's Floo hall, brushing off the remaining blue ash that had clung onto his robes. He really ought to invest in some of those floo-repelling robes, he just had never enjoyed the styles they had. Perhaps his mother would have some recommendations.

He turned towards one of the sitting rooms when he ran into Pansy. He nodded towards her, intending to brush past her, but she grabbed his forearm.

"They're having a right row out there," she sniffed. "Fix it, would you? The banshee's high pitch is irritating me."

"Granger? And Blaise?" Draco asked, confused. "What are they fighting about?"

"Something about Weaselette, but I didn't hear much. Too much screaming, really," Pansy sneered.

"Weaselette? The younger ginger?"

"Who else, Draco?" Pansy rolled her eyes. "Keep up, would you? I suppose blonds have never been known for their intellect. I'll be sunning myself in the interior garden. Have one of the help summon me when Blaise is no longer occupied with the hairy harpy."

"Pans," Draco warned, but Pansy had already flounced away, her long black hair swaying behind her. Draco groaned. The last thing he needed was his two coworkers - who, arguably, got along the best of the bunch - at each other's throats. Pansy hadn't told him where to find them, but as he walked the way Pansy had come and turned outside into the garden, Granger's voice became clearer and shriller.

"But they'll perceive me as weak, Blaise, for Merlin's sake! What types of implications will that have for our future negotiations? You're constantly on me about preserving our image, and giving in now would only damage it!"

"Bloody Gryffindors," Blaise cursed, and Draco pinched the bridge of his nose as he approached them, the white gravel beneath his dragon-hide shoes crunching slightly. "Your friends, Hermione. The Cascioferras are the Medicis hitmen. They mean business! This isn't about principle now, Hermione. This is about preservation of those you love! You can deal with the fall out later."

Draco cleared his throat once he approached them.

"Draco?" Blaise asked. "You're back early."

Draco waved a hand dismissively. "What's going on here?"

"Blaise thinks I need to surrender the company's international originator claim and let Arnaldo file for full credibility," Hermione hissed, "because the Cascioferra family has moved into a flat across from mine, where Ginny is currently staying."

"Sounds reasonable to me," Draco shrugged. "I'd say we're done here."

"What the shite is that?" Hermione leapt to her feet, jabbing her finger into his chest. Draco was taken aback by her fury and proximity, stepping back. He cursed himself. He never gave ground to an opponent, but something about the prickly Gryffindor always upended his rules. His nose throbbed slightly, a reminder of how prickly this lion could get.

"How dare you immediately dismiss my opinion, before it's even voiced? You didn't even hear my argument! What, is it because Blaise has genitalia that I lack? Is it because he's a pureblood? Is it because he's a Slytherin? What will it take for me to have the same respect from you that Blaise has? I am just as necessary to this team, and you will never again dismiss me without listening to me first! Are we clear?"

Draco swallowed, clearing his throat. "Yes. My mistake."

Hermione huffed, finally backing up to allow Draco some breathing room. He quickly glanced at Blaise, who had an odd smile on his face. "Now, as I was saying. I, however, take issue with immediately pulling out on this originator claim issue. The reasons to file for an international claim with the company taking credit are the same as before - it's the most obvious and beneficial solution for all parties. We'd be able to get them through the correct regulatory boards, most importantly the Potions and Cures Board, and they'd keep their intellectual property. With the added… pressure," Granger said distastefully, "the originator claim when it's directly in their benefit and has absolutely no real consequences for them is one of the least challenging negotiations we will likely ever make. Giving in on this sets a horrible precedent for our future negotiations, and we'll not have the same credibility that we would have if we won this one. Not only that, but it would encourage them to threaten other people I love or other people you love anytime they want to influence the conversation in their favor. That endangers more people in the future whereas there's only one endangered now. We know to warn our loved ones now and keep a careful eye out, but we have the aurors at my flat with 24/7 shifts so Ginny will be fine. As fine as any of our loved ones in the future could ever be. That is why we should not back down on this."

Draco mulled over her reasoning, finding it to be flawless.

"You're Slytherins, aren't you?" Granger asked. "Political situations are what you navigate best. You must know that you have to be assertive, aggressive even, in some of your negotiations."

"It's not the preferred path," Blaise acknowledged. "We prefer less… conspicuous methods. But wouldn't it be to your advantage if they underestimate you later if you go along with this small thing?"

"It could be, but that doesn't outweigh the future loved ones they could threaten or harm," Granger reasoned. "Plus, when will the situation to challenge them ever be better than this? They don't know we know about the Cascioferras. The next time this happens and they threaten us blatantly, it'll be worse, and we'll want to pull out again. We'll keep giving ground, and they'll corner us."

"Checkmate," Draco agreed. "Granger, you do what you need to do. It's time to unleash our Queen."

Hermione turned to Draco and beamed. His stomach tightened a little at her smile.

"Queen to F3," Hermione said softly. "Morphy versus Duke Karl and Count Isouard, Paris, 1858."

Draco tilted his head to the side, studying her. "You've been reading."

Hermione simply smiled again.

* * *

Ginny and Michael stumbled through the Floo, giggling as they nearly tripped over each other. "I can't believe you brought me to Hogsmeade Reflecting Pool again- Ginny?" Michael asked as he noticed how she stiffened.

"What in the name of Merlin's saggy balls are _you _doing in my flat?" Ginny asked venomously, and Michael traced her gaze towards none other than Harry Potter himself, situated one of the chairs at the dining table.

**AN: Hello everyone! Thanks so much for sticking with me - we've got an update in a timely manner! *le gasp* I wish I could say this is the beginning of a new pattern, but I'll probably jinx it. Let me know what you guys think in the review box below, and thanks so much for favoriting/following! Also, shout out to the lovely guest who corrected me with Caesario. I appreciate people educating me in areas in which I'm ignorant! Keep the feedback coming :)**


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

"I thought this was Hermione's flat," Harry said tiredly, leaning back further into his chair. Ginny bristled. How dare he invade her personal space?

"You didn't answer the question," Ginny snapped.

"It's my shift."

"They couldn't find someone else?" Ginny narrowed her eyes at Harry. "Or is this about Michael? You see a couple of photos in the _Prophet _and think you ought to check up on me?"

"_Fuck_, Ginny! No one else was available! Why do you have to assume that I'm purposefully spying on you? I've been giving you space-"

"Oh this is what you call _space_?"

"Don't turn this into a conspiracy!"

"Not a _single _other MLE officer or Auror could possibly take the shift-"

"I'm just trying to _keep you safe!_" Harry bellowed, completely out of patience.

"Safe from what, Michael? From my moving on?"

"Now you're just trying to pick a fight, Ginevra."

"_Oh _because Holier Than Thou Harry Saint Fucking Savior Potter is the _mature one_ always there to save the damsel in distress with his gigantic bloody hero complex-" Ginny swore.

"Ginny," Michael began, trying to intervene.

"_Stay out of it_, Michael," Ginny spat.

"You know what, fuck this. Fuck you, Ginny. I can't just stop caring about you just because we broke up! I don't want you to _die_, for Godric's sake! I'm doing my fucking _job, _and I'm sorry it isn't comfortable or easy or full of sparkly rainbow marshmallows to cushion your delicate fucking sensibilities but since you're _too dumb_-"

"Oh now I'm _dumb_, too-" Ginny interrupted Harry's tirade, but he continued speaking over her anyways.

"-to move to a _safe house_ when your life is in bloody _danger-_"

"Why is your life in danger?" Michael asked, horrified.

"You're stuck with whatever auror is assigned to your case-"

"Of course it'd be _you-_"

"And, fucking _sorry_, Ginevra," Harry snapped sarcastically, "for a teensy bit of your life, you're stuck with me for your own bloody sake! Deal with it!" Harry shouted.

"_Why is your life in danger?_" Michael asked Ginny.

"Don't you go starting your hero complex too," Ginny whirled on him, eyes burning with anger.

Michael held up his hands. "I'm not your enemy, Ginevra," he said softly.

"Neither am I, but she doesn't seem to be able to wrap her mind around that yet," Harry snarked, and Ginny snarled, pulling her wand out to shoot a nasty bat bogey hex in Harry's direction. Harry blocked it boredly, expecting her move.

"Can we all just _calm down_?" Michael asked desperately, holding onto Ginny's wand arm.

"I don't _fucking think so_," Ginny growled, struggling out of Michael's grasp. "Let _go_, Michael!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Get over yourself, Ginny. It's simply my fucking shift."

Michael eventually let her go after she had calmed down some, and breathing in deeply, he turned Ginny around to look him in the eye.

"Ginevra, what's going on?" Michael asked concernedly. "Why are the aurors taking shifts at your place?"

Ginny stomped her foot childishly. "There's some suspicious people that have moved into the flat next door. It's just a paranoid security measure."

"Paranoid?" Harry scoffed. "Know what the muggle mafia is? This is the magical one, right across. Peek through the window and maybe chance an _Avada_?" Harry pointed behind him.

"That sounds rather d-dangerous," Michael stuttered, shocked. "Shouldn't you… shouldn't you stay somewhere else then? You're welcome to stay at my place," Michael offered. Before Ginny could answer, Harry cut in.

"Yes, _Ginevra_, I wonder why you wouldn't just stay at your new _beau_'s place, or at one of your families', hmm?" Harry asked annoyingly. "Or a _fucking safe house_."

"Enough, Potter," Michael snapped, as he noticed Ginny's instantaneous tension.

"Fuck off," Ginny swore, storming away. She slammed the door behind her, and both Michael and Harry looked at each other awkwardly.

"I guess I'll leave now?" Michael asked, breaking the silence.

"Don't do that, she'll just get more angry. Let her cool off and come back out later," Harry said sagely, years of experience coloring his tone.

Michael frowned. "You know her very well."

Harry nodded. "And you don't."

Michael sighed, some slight insecurities bubbling to the surface. "Then why are you purposefully inciting her?"

Harry ducked his head, ashamed. "I had a long day. It's not an excuse, but when you and Ginny came in together… and when you mentioned the Reflecting Pool..." Harry trailed off. Michael inhaled sharply. He knew what that Reflecting Pool meant to Harry - it had been where he had proposed to Ginny, and she had sweetly told him not yet, but soon. It must have stung to hear that.

"It was stupid," Harry continued, shaking his head. "I'll apologize to her when she comes out again, but I'm really frustrated with her. I don't understand why she won't stay somewhere safe! "

"Maybe…" Michael paused, looking anywhere but at Harry.

"Maybe what?" Harry prompted. Michael forced himself to look Harry in the eye. He was startled by the intensity with which Harry held his gaze.

"Maybe she doesn't consider anywhere else really… safe. In the emotional sense. She really only has your place or her parents', and from the little that I _do _know, staying with you isn't an option, and her parents vacillate between harping about restarting a relationship with you to being still so broken up about Fred… it's been a rollercoaster at the Burrow."

"Perceptive," Harry stated, and Michael looked at him questioningly. "You're perceptive. I'm about as perceptive as a brick, as both Hermione and Ginny like to tell me. No wonder she likes you."

Michael laughed nervously. "Well, I fancy her quite a bit, so I'd like to think she does too. I wish she'd feel comfortable staying at my flat instead, but I realize we're not at that stage yet-"

"Yet?" Harry asked. "So this isn't just some rebound. Not to you."

"It is, and it isn't," Michael shrugged. "I know it must hurt, to hear about the Reflecting Pool, but Ginny and I are just trying to air out our baggage. Our first date this time was the same restaurant to which I brought Susan, and our second date just now was at a park where I said 'I love you' for the first time to Susan, too. Maybe you wouldn't understand, but-"

"I do," Harry said with sudden clarity. "Thanks for the context."

"Of course," Michael said, but shifted his weight uncertainly. There were a few moments of awkward silence.

"But there's more to it than that," Harry stated. It wasn't a question. "For you, anyways."

"Um," Michael fumbled for words. "Well-"

"You look at her like you've got something to prove. Maybe you didn't do things right the first time, and you're looking at this like it's your second chance," Harry suggested.

"Well, I never really had a chance the first time. She was still in love with you. In fact, it might not even be any different this time either. She may still be in love with you," Michael said sadly.

"Are you not still in love with Susan?" Harry asked.

"I'm not sure I'll ever stop loving her, but I think it's a different type of love now," Michael answered.

"Maybe it'll be the same with me and Ginny," Harry shrugged. "Maybe we thought we had one type of love when we really confused it for another. Maybe we were more in love with the idea of each other that we never really understood what real love is. Maybe _I _don't know what real love is."

Michael cocked his head. "And they say you aren't perceptive?"

* * *

_Four weeks later..._

Harry had once again inserted himself into Ginny's life, a fact she came to reaccept. Upon apologizing, he sat every Wednesday and Friday evening quietly at the dining room table, a cup of green tea and a takeout box of treacle tarts in hand. He always faced the Floo and the front door, training that had been ingrained in him since Moody's first raspy lectures. She and Michael would stumble through the Floo, acknowledge Harry's presence, and retire to Ginny's room. A few hours later, Michael would emerge, bid Harry goodnight, and floo back to his flat. Ginny might grab a late night snack from the kitchen and ask Harry how his day was, and vice versa, but soon as the pleasantries were over, she'd head back to bed, while he settled further into his chair with his case files and other paperwork.

Sometimes, on the rare chance that Harry's replacement was late on Thursday or Saturday morning, he and Ginny would silently work together at the dining room table. She'd put a kettle on, pour his typical Irish Breakfast while she'd pour herself some Oolong, and accept a plate of Harry's heartily prepared full English breakfast. She'd dive into the bacon and eggs hungrily, pulling out the latest Quidditch statistics and jot a few notes down for her column at the _Prophet_, and he'd continue working on his cases in preparation for trial. They'd only part ways when Harry's replacement, Trevor Bartlow, would finally floo over, or if Ginny had to get ready for Quidditch practice.

Their routine was simple. It was easy. It was familiar.

At the end of four weeks, when Michael and Ginny came tumbling in, Harry wasn't sitting, but standing.

"Harry," Michael greeted, and Ginny managed a short "Hullo."

"Good news," Harry said a bit stiffly. "They're gone. The Aurors managed to catch them practicing Unforgiveables, so we've put the Cascioferras away. They're clearly inept with magic, and they didn't know our laws well enough to stay under the radar. You won't be needing a security post anymore."

"Excellent!" Michael said, turning to Ginny excitedly. "You're safe!"

"Yes, that's rather nice," she nodded, a little too apathetically. Michael deflated a bit, confused.

"I'll get out of your hair, then," Harry said. "Just wanted to deliver the news so you didn't worry without having a post here."

Ginny nodded. "Thanks, Harry. Want a cuppa before you leave? Since you're already here, that is."

Harry looked from Ginny to Michael, and finding no hint of protest, nodded. "That would be great, Gin, thanks."

Michael watched as Ginny moved back into the kitchen with practiced ease, and Harry settled back into the dining room table. As oddly disconnected as they were, there was something rather domestic about it. Exclusive.

Michael suddenly felt uncomfortable.

"Err, well, I've actually got to head back. Work stuff, y'know," Michael called towards the kitchen. A faint whistling began, and Ginny poked her head around the corner.

"Work stuff?" Ginny asked skeptically. "I thought you were-"

"I just remembered I have to prepare some analyses for a client, but I'll see you soon? Tuesday, after practice? My client meeting is on Monday, and I'll just have administrative work on Tuesday."

"All right," Ginny agreed. "I'll see you then."

"Goodnight," Michael waved before jumping through the floo.

Ginny frowned, and Harry, without paperwork to occupy himself as he hadn't been planning on staying, noticed.

"All right there Gin?" he asked.

"He usually kisses me on the cheek _at least_ when he says goodbye," she said honestly before ducking back into the kitchen when the kettle squealed in earnest.

Eventually, she brought him his mug, and they sat at their spots at the table, sipping their drinks.

"Serious about him, then?" Harry asked hesitantly, not knowing how Ginny would respond.

"Probably not," Ginny replied. "Maybe. He's a good person."

"He seems it," Harry nodded, then falling silent. The only noise in the flat for a few minutes was their quiet sips or the occasional stirring, their spoons clinking against the ceramic sides of their mugs.

"Do you…" Ginny began, almost backing down for fear of the answer. She summoned her Gryffindor courage. "Do you still love me?" she asked bluntly.

Harry frowned into his mug, his glasses steaming up as he refused to look at her. "Do you?" he asked.

Ginny rolled her shoulders to relieve some of the knots before answering. "I don't know. I think I do, still. I still want the world for you, Harry. But…" She searched for words, finding none.

"But it's a different type of love," Harry said. "You don't know if you're _in love _anymore."

Ginny nodded. "That's it."

"Me too," Harry answered.

Ginny nodded again, as if expecting his comment. "Honestly I don't even really understand why we broke up in the first place. Hermione and Ron's relationship had nothing to do with ours, really. We could've made it if we wanted to - focused on ourselves."

Harry shrugged. "Maybe we were both looking for a way out subconsciously."

Ginny pondered that for a moment. "I don't know. Things seemed to be going so well."

Harry fiddled with his glasses for a moment. "I don't know. I thought things changed after I… after I proposed."

Ginny looked at him worriedly. "You do understand that I just wasn't ready yet? We're awfully young still, Harry. I was always under the impression that we'd marry eventually. I just… I don't know. I wasn't ready. It's not that I rejected _you_, or that I didn't want to marry you at all. I thought I made that clear?"

"I knew," Harry said. He frowned, and after a beat, answered Ginny's questioning look. "Well, perhaps it's different knowing your reasoning _rationally_ versus feeling your reasoning _emotionally_, as Hermione sometimes points out."

Ginny nodded sadly. "I understand."

Harry smiled. "It's okay. Maybe you weren't ready because you felt something like this might happen." Ginny started to protest, but he waved his hand. "Subconsciously, I mean."

"Hm," Ginny shrugged. "Maybe."

They sat together in comfortable silence for another few moments.

"So we're really done then?" she asked.

"Probably," Harry said. "I think… I think I need to figure out myself. I don't know if I know what love is. I never really experienced it until I met your family. I hate to say it… but maybe I fell in love with the love your family had…"

"Rather than falling in love with me for me," Ginny finished. Harry sighed.

"That's it," he echoed. "And I don't know if I know _how _to love."

"You do," Ginny said. "I've seen it. It wasn't all bad, you know."

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "It wasn't."

"No more fights?" Ginny asked. "No more biting, sarcastic comments? Friends again?"

"I can't promise you on the sarcasm," Harry said honestly, and Ginny giggled. "But yes. Friends again."

* * *

_One week later..._

In one week, Ginny and Michael had had seven fights. And the latest one didn't even make any sense!

Michael had finally convinced Ginny to stay over a night - no expectations attached - simply because they had been talking late into the night and she looked too tired to floo. But he was regretting it at 4 in the morning when she demanded that they go out to get paella, a Spanish dish that Michael hadn't had since he was fourteen.

"Ginny, for the last time, it's 4am! Nothing's open right now!" Michael shouted, exasperated.

"There's _ALWAYS _something open, you just don't have the _nerve!_" Ginny shouted back, tears streaming down her face.

"Look, I can make you some food right now, all right? I don't have the ingredients for a paella, but I can make a mean fried rice - Cho taught me-" Michael tried to reason, rubbing his swollen eyes that were drooping with sleep deprivation. Ginny suddenly shrieked, losing any semblance of sanity.

"WHY AM I ALWAYS COMPETING WITH CHO CHANG?" she sobbed. "FIRST HARRY! THEN YOU! I DON'T EVEN KNOW HER! I HATE HER!"

"I'm sorry - I forgot Harry had a history with her," Michael attempted to apologize.

"Maybe I should have married Harry," Ginny sniffled, her nose running as she reached for more tissues. "Maybe then Cho never would be able to steal my men away from me again."

"Ginny, I think you're really exhausted. Can we please just go to bed?" Michael asked patiently.

"Fuck off, Michael." Ginny didn't even shout it. She stated it, finally resembling her calmer self.

"Can I at least floo you back?" Michael asked, pinching the bridge of his nose and gritting his teeth. She shook her head, bursting into tears again.

"Nobody wants me," she blubbered. "Not you. Not Harry. I was just a beard for Dean when he and Seamus were experimenting."

"I thought Seamus had a thing for Lav?" Michael asked, suddenly curious.

"FUCK OFF MICHAEL!" Ginny screamed.

"You know what, Ginevra? I don't know what's gotten into you this past week, but I've had it! I've been so incredibly patient! You tell me you're not stressed about the Harpies, or the _Prophet_, or Harry's reemergence as a friend, but you're fucking screaming at me for no reason! Because of _paella_! At _Rowena's saggy tits four o'clock in the morning_, and you refuse to let me help you! And you're telling _me_ to fuck off?" Michael shouted, chest heaving and teeth clenching. "Get out of my fucking flat. We're done."

Wobbly, Ginny stood up, and brandishing her wand, yelled _REDUCTO!_ towards Michael's dresser, exploding it into wooden shrapnel.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL WAS THAT FOR?" Michael roared. "GET OUT!"

Ginny spat at him before apparating back to her flat and collapsing onto her bed, a pile of tears, snot, and broken hearts.

The next day, Ginny groggily awoke to a splitting headache, before suddenly feeling the unstoppable urge to vomit. She had barely transfigured her pillow into a bucket before she dry heaved over it, the distinct taste of bile unpleasantly lingering in her mouth.

Ginny frowned. She hadn't had anything remotely alcoholic to drink the night before, and she had no idea why she had gotten so worked up over _paella_. She needed to floo call Michael and apologize. She really hoped he hadn't meant that they were really over. She felt horrible, but she couldn't figure out _why._

She attempted to make herself breakfast, but the eggs tasted like rubber and the sausage smelled like it had gone bad, though she thought she had just purchased a new package the day before yesterday. Eventually, she found herself over the toilet bowl vomiting up her stomach's contents. The nausea never really subsided, but once she could wash her mouth out with water and drink a glass without immediately upchucking it again, she called it a success. She must be coming down with some sort of food poisoning - maybe it had been the restaurant she and Michael had gone to the night before.

She had planned on visiting Hannah for lunch, which wasn't too long now, and she thought she might at least try to make it. Hannah's busy schedule as a potioneer never left much leisure time, and it had taken them the last few months to figure out something that fit both Ginny's quidditch schedule and Hannah's work. A little stomach bug wouldn't stop Ginny from reconnecting with the former Hufflepuff - she'd just have to watch that she only ate a light lunch and things that wouldn't set her off.

Ginny got herself ready and flooed to the Leaky Cauldron, figuring that she would be too nauseous to try apparating. Eventually, she caught sight of Hannah and greeted her before grabbing two seats at the bar.

"How have you been?" Hannah asked after they had exchanged greetings.

"Been better," Ginny croaked. "Bit of a stomach flu this morning, so I'm not sure I can eat a very heavy lunch today. Michael and I have been fighting a lot the past week, too, and he broke up with me last night."

"Oh no," Hannah cried. "That's awful! I hope you feel better soon."

"Thanks," Ginny smiled sadly. "I was acting pretty crazy last night, so I need to at least talk to him to apologize. I hope it's not already the end, but this week has been awful."

Tom swung by to take their orders, and Ginny ordered a simple fruit salad so as not to upset her stomach. Hannah looked worriedly at her, but ordered a fuller meal.

"You can always grab chunks of mine if you feel up to it," Hannah reasoned, and Ginny thanked her for being so kind.

The conversation turned to Hannah's work on the latest version of wolfsbane, where she and her coworkers were hoping to reduce the side effects by adding certain stabilizing herbs, crystals, or longer incubation times. Sometimes the timing of the brewing made an impact as well, so they had lots of variables that they were hoping would eventually produce something useful. Ginny talked about quidditch and how she was feeling so much more sluggish recently, and that she was thinking about taking over the _Prophet_'s sports section full time. The main sports staff writer was retiring in the next year, and Ginny felt that there were only so many more bludgers that she could take before having serious health problems.

"Magic is great," Hannah said sagely, "but even magic has its limitations. Life is one of those such boundaries."

Eventually, Ginny described the horror her past week had been, finding it cathartic to have a non-judgemental ear. But as Ginny continued to explain her exhaustion, random mood swings and her bad luck with a stomach bug, Hannah began to wonder.

"Ginny… I hate to ask this, but I feel as a friend that it's my duty. Is there any chance you might be… pregnant?" Hannah asked gently. "I mean, the mood swings, the nausea, the vomiting… sounds a lot like morning sickness."

Ginny shook her head vehemently. "No way, Michael and I never went there. Plus, the morning sickness would be way too soon even if we had…" she trailed off, the color draining from her face. "Fuck. My p-period. H-Hannah," Ginny stuttered, gulping. "How l-l-long ago w-was Hermione's… send-off party?"

"Around five weeks, Gin, but if you and Michael never-"

"Oh Merlin," Ginny sobbed. "Oh for the love of Godric," she whimpered. Hannah's eyes widened in understanding.

"It isn't…?" Hannah asked, not wanting to upset Ginny further.

"I've… I've skipped at least two-"

"First, let's do the test. This might be much ado about nothing, yes? Let's go to the bathroom - here you are - _Tom! _Watch our jackets while we're in the loo, all right?" Hannah maneuvered Ginny around the barstools and towards the restroom. Once safely inside, brought out her wand.

"Here, let's do this first before we freak out, all right? _Examinitas gravidius_," she cast on Ginny's abdomen, and it glowed a soft green light.

"Do it again," Ginny whispered hoarsely.

Hannah waved her wand, and again, a soft green light lit up at the end of Hannah's wand.

"Do it to yourself, please?" Ginny begged. Hannah did so, but this time, a dull red light emitted from Hannah's wand.

"Oh Ginny," Hannah said. "Is it?"

"It's Harry's," Ginny confirmed in horror.

**AN: Hello, hello! Thanks all for sticking with the story! I thought it would be nice to check back in with Ginny and those back home, and we've left it off with a bang. Thoughts? Do people want Ginny and Michael back together? Ginny and Harry? How do you think Ginny/Harry/Michael would deal with her pregnancy? It's a sticky situation… would love to hear your thoughts! Let me know in the review box below. Enjoy the spring flowers!**


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

"Unacceptable." Stefano's deep voice had an edge and a snap to it, an odd contrast to his typically solemn if not somewhat stony countenance. "If Clemencio may maintain his originator claims, there is simply no acceptable reason that Arnaldo should not be able to keep his."

Blaise and Stefano had been going back and forth on the matter for at least thirty minutes, hitting stalemate after stalemate despite both Hermione and Draco's support with previous case studies, explanation of the stringent requirements and regulations needed for approval of a product through the Potions and Cures Board, and appeals to logic.

Blaise narrowed his eyes almost imperceptibly at the Minister's comment, his glance quickly flicking to Clemencio's smug smirk. Before he could comment, Hermione cleared her throat. "If I may, Blaise." He nodded.

Hermione focused on the quietest person this entire meeting, despite being at the very center of the dispute. "I simply cannot understand this one thing, Arnaldo," Hermione said tiredly, though she did her utmost to underlie the words with a steel that left no room for questioning. If he were surprised by her directness, he didn't show it as he met her eyes without hesitation. "If this is a matter of credit, filing the international originator claim to the company does not remove you from being credited with the work. Obviously, your claim has been settled within Italy, and that will not change. It is merely the appearance to the Potions and Cures Board that we wish to address." Hermione paused slightly before deciding to layer on a bit of ego-stroking. "I must admit that it is awfully narrow minded of them to question the legitimacy of your inventions, for anyone who would meet you would know how capable you are. Regardless, the credit is yours. So why deny a profitable portfolio of products the ease of approval through the regulatory channels present?"

Arnaldo rolled his broad shoulders as he sat forward, smirking as Hermione's eyes were drawn to the movement. "Indeed," he said slowly, flashing Hermione a brilliantly white smile. "Father, why deny ourselves the ease of approval?"

"Perhaps another suggestion, a compromise if you will," Blaise interrupted, recognizing Stefano's hardened gaze. "If the international paperwork proves to send the wrong messages of credit given the unbalanced filing under Clemencio name and not Arnaldo's, it may be prudent to file all originator claims under the company rather than to any individual. It would provide a united front, and prevent the unbalanced reputation discrepancies."

Stefano relaxed, but it was turn for Clemencio to pulse red with anger. "Now just wait here a second. If the only thing that needs to be changed is Arnaldo's claims, there's no reason to do so for mine. It's not my problem!"

Stefano raised an eyebrow at his cousin's outburst. "Why, Clemencio, this directly concerns your company. I would have thought any challenge to the official claims of this company would be a direct issue for you."

Clemencio practically snarled at his cousin, but Arnaldo intervened before Clemencio could growl any obscene comments towards Arnaldo's father. "Uncle Clemencio, please. A united front is important, is it not? This is larger than you or me; it's the company's, and thus our family's, reputation. As dear Hermione so eloquently inquired, why should we deny ourselves the ease of a regulatory approval? We all remain internally aware of the royalties that we are due for each of our products, and that's all that matters once we begin selling in Britain. To deny ourselves of the opportunity to even _begin _selling, indeed, is folly."

Clemencio deflated, replaced with a slightly petulant sneer. "I suppose that is the only real avenue we can pursue. As you say, Arnaldo, profits will be handled internally, and a united front is indeed important."

Blaise observed Arnaldo's carefully crafted smile at his uncle silently. No wonder Arnaldo held so many originator claims: he had Clemencio wrapped right around his finger. Remove Arnaldo from the equation, however, and the friction between Stefano and Clemencio would become unbearable. Draco glanced sideways at him, and Blaise nodded almost imperceptibly. So Draco had seen it, too. Blaise filed this information away for later, and Draco surely did, too.

"Excellent," Blaise smiled. "Now that that's settled, Hermione and Draco have prepared the forms you will need to file with the Potions and Cures Board to approve each of the products you'll be selling in Britain. Hermione's summarized the purposes of the forms and the required information you'll fill out in a short document in the front." Blaise caught Hermione's slight bristle, and he sighed internally. He and Hermione had fought on some of the wording of her summaries yesterday. She called it malicious intentional misrepresentation. He called it leverage.

Hermione distributed copies across the table, briefly explaining that they'd be required to file this for every item they wish to sell in the UK. A few questions from Arnaldo and Stefano later, and they had concluded the main portion of the meeting.

"If we return these to you in a week, approximately how long will the approval process take?" Stefano asked.

"Typically less than ten months-" Hermione began.

"Ten _months!_" Clemencio exclaimed, but Arnaldo again talked him down.

"Now let Hermione explain, Uncle," Arnaldo interrupted. Clemencio crossed his arms, bouncing his leg in impatience that vibrated the table with each punctuated jostle. Blaise wanted to petrify the annoying man - honestly, how could Stefano, a stone mountain, possibly be related to this bumbling buffoon?

"Thank you Arnaldo. Ten months is the maximum of a typical review process, as there are multiple tiers of validation that the potion or cure must pass before we allow it to market. The Ministry does its best to keep its citizens safe, especially after the neo-Death Eaters attempted to poison all those taking Pepper-Up potion a few years ago."

All the eyes in the room flickered briefly to Draco before snapping back to Hermione. Blaise felt sympathy for his friend, knowing how personally Draco took such looks. For all the swagger, smirks, and sneers, Draco Malfoy's true core lay in sensitivity and insecurity. And Blaise, like any good Slytherin, knew his friend's strengths and weaknesses like his own.

Hermione continued, oblivious. "However, because some of your elixirs and potions are novel and address diseases like cancer, where there is no pre-existing therapeutic, it may be possible to fast-track some of your products. It is up to the discretion of the Potions and Cures Board, but if we're lucky, we can reduce the maximum time for approval to four or five months. If you can provide us a list of all of the products you'll be selling in Britain and the experimental data for each, we can compare it to the current items in the British market and let you know which ones will be most likely to receive the fast-track."

Clemencio nodded stiffly, appeased. Arnaldo tilted his head. "Hermione, that is an awful lot of work for you and your team to do. Surely, it would be less of a burden for the three of you if you were to simply send us the list of the British items and their data - we have workers within Medici Pharmaceutical that can do the heavy lifting. We can have a list of fast-track candidates to you in a few short days."

Draco interrupted before Hermione could answer, and Blaise sighed in relief. Blaise wasn't sure that Hermione would see this play for what it was. "How very gracious of you to offer, Arnaldo, but the list is long and tedious. The number of products you have in your portfolio is surely a significantly scant amount in comparison to all of the products on the British market. There would be less work all around if you send your portfolio to us - we're familiar with British items, and we'd be happy to take this on while your employees help fill out the forms in the next week."

"Mm, yes," Arnaldo slowly agreed, nodding. Blaise could tell Arnaldo was quickly calculating another excuse to receive all the British product information. It would be enormously beneficial to know the exact mechanisms that each of their competitor's products used to facilitate their desired effects. With so much data, they could attempt to reverse engineer the products without the same heavy overhead cost of development, price it just slightly lower than their competitors, and then outcompete them. It could be disastrous for the British potion economy if the Medicis received so much knowledge and power from their team. "However…"

Arnaldo was stalling for time, still thinking. Blaise felt a little pleased at that. He realized he had thought that too soon, as Arnaldo's gaze cleared and refocused on Draco.

"There is unfortunately, a small matter of classified data and trade secrets."

Blaise internally groaned. Whenever a company dropped the 'trade secrets' bomb, it made it infinitely harder to do, well, anything.

"You'll have to disclose the data to the Potions and Cures Board anyways," Hermione said, confused. "The Ministry unfortunately cannot work without evidence."

"I'm sure you can also appreciate the same concerns countless British companies would have if we were to disclose their data to you," Draco added.

Arnaldo, sensing he had been backed into a corner, smiled with a hint of unease. "We understand a certain amount of data will be disclosed for approval purposes. However, I'm sure you can empathize with our concerns that our trade secrets may be leaked."

"Are you implying-" Hermione began, but Stefano interrupted her.

"I think this is a point that will require more discussion than our time allows us," Stefano said. "I hate to hasten you out of the Ministry, but I do have other meetings I must attend to. You must forgive me."

"There is nothing to forgive, Minister," Blaise smiled. "I am pleased we have resolved the issue of originator claims when it comes to filing internationally and the forms required for approval through the Potions and Cures Board. We may reconvene to discuss the matters of maintaining your intellectual property, and we'll do our part in confirming the information needed for both approval and fast-tracking."

"See that you do," Clemencio sneered.

"Excellent, I will see you all in a few days, Thursday, I believe?" Stefano asked.

"Yes, that is when our next meeting is scheduled," Draco answered.

"Good. Until then," Stefano stood, and they filed out of the conference room in the Ministry.

As Blaise, Hermione, and Draco made their way towards the Floo Hall, Arnaldo called out from behind them. "Hermione!"

Hermione turned as Arnaldo caught up to them. "So glad I caught you all before you left. I just wanted to apologize for my uncle's short temper. He has a way of getting on people's nerves."

"Nonsense, Arnaldo. There is nothing to forgive," Hermione answered.

"I'm glad for it. I'll see you soon - oh, and the family is hosting a dinner to celebrate Michelangelo's newest work. It is in a few weeks - would you be interested?"

"Michelangelo? Not the original?" Hermione asked, flabbergasted.

"The original? I only know of one," Arnaldo said, confused.

"The artist, from the Renaissance. The Sistine Chapel ceiling? David?" Hermione asked.

"Yes…?" Arnaldo answered uncertainly. "Why is this problematic?"

"But… that would make him over five hundred years old!" Hermione cried.

Draco chuckled. "It appears Nicolas and Perenelle had a soft spot for artists, then?"

Arnaldo nodded. "None of my family members had the good fortune of meeting the Flamels, but we have heard incredible things." Blaise detected a hint of bitterness laced in Arnaldo's words. "Luckily, we've rekindled the family's relationship with Michelangelo. He did the halls in our _Ministero_, if you recall. You held such wonder for them - I thought you might like to meet him."

"I-I would love to!" Hermione said excitedly. "It would be an honor."

"Excellent. You can be my plus one. Draco and Blaise, feel free to bring along plus ones as well. I'll send the details with my osprey later this evening."

"Thank you for the gracious invitation," Blaise bowed slightly to Arnaldo.

"Of course. I will see you on Thursday."

"Goodbye!" Hermione called as Arnaldo walked away.

"To the villa?" Draco asked.

"To the villa," Blaise nodded.

Once they had flooed back to Blaise's estate, they congregated in his office to debrief the meeting. In the last few conversations, Blaise had taken it upon himself to begin educating Hermione in the constantly dangerous subtext of their conversations with the Medicis, and Draco occasionally added a few insightful remarks. "You did well, Hermione," Blaise said. "You always ask excellent questions, something that I know Draco and I personally struggle with."

"Speak for yourself," Draco hissed under his breath, but Blaise continued on, ignoring him.

"Draco interrupted you though towards the end of the conversation. Do you know why?" Blaise asked.

"Other than his usual Mighty Prickishness?" Hermione asked sarcastically, before adding more genuinely, "Probably because he was afraid I'd agree to provide all of the British companies' intellectual property to the Medicis, which would have been a horrible loss of the UK's competitive edge. I wasn't planning on agreeing, especially after the hissy fit you both had over _publically available laws_."

"In that case, it was more because we know how thorough and concisely explained your summary would be, Granger. And we knew we wouldn't be receiving treatment of equal quality," Draco explained.

Hermione looked at him confused, unsure of how to respond to an implied compliment from a Malfoy's mouth.

"Regardless, I'm glad you understood the danger of that part of the conversation and agreeing to that. Did you notice anything about Arnaldo's relationship with Stefano and Clemencio?" Blaise asked.

"Other than being related to them?" Hermione asked, now doubly confused.

"How about this - when Arnaldo and Clemencio were speaking with each other, was it positive or negative?" Draco asked, pointedly looking at Blaise as if to demonstrate _I can ask excellent questions, you tosser_.

"Positive," Hermione said slowly as she thought about it.

"Arnaldo and Stefano?"

"Positive," Hermione said without hesitation.

"How about Stefano and Clemencio?" Draco asked.

"Negative - incredibly fraught with tension," Hermione said, and her eyes widened. "_Oh_."

"The genius bookworm gets it," Draco said triumphantly. "Due to my well led questions."

"Do you see why that might be useful?" Blaise asked, ignoring Draco.

"Yes. If you prevent Arnaldo from mediating between the two, it would be incredibly explosive. They would never be able to agree on anything," Hermione concluded.

"Right," Blaise nodded. There was a moment of silence as Hermione digested

"Who do you think is the most powerful person in that room?" Draco asked Hermione.

"Stefano," Hermione said instantly. "He runs the country, and Clemencio and Arnaldo have to live by those rules. He also appears to be the head of the family, and there's a certain amount of deference that both Arnaldo and Clemencio use in their interactions with him."

"No," Blaise disagreed. "I'd argue it's actually Arnaldo."

"Really?" Hermione asked, dumbfounded. "Just because he mediates between the two family branches doesn't mean he's more powerful than his father. His _father _makes the decisions."

"Fair," Draco said, "But look at the evidence, even in the conversation we just had with the three of them. Arnaldo's mediation facilitated the decisions that needed to be made. We were at a stalemate until Arnaldo decided to grace the conversation with his presence. Arnaldo obviously has influence on his father given their familial relationship, and Arnaldo clearly has huge influence over Clemencio. Just look at how quickly Clemencio turned around his opinion once Arnaldo asked a few questions! Arnaldo is Stefano's only son, likely successor to the Minister of Magic, and is for some reason present at all of our meetings despite holding no real public official position. He's there because Stefano wants him to be, because Stefano needs him to rein in Clemencio. Arnaldo has all of the cards, since Stefano needs him and Clemencio listens to him. Arnaldo is definitely the most powerful man in the room."

"How interesting," Hermione said, mulling over Draco's words.

"And he seems to… desire you, which if cultivated, could easily place you, Hermione, as the most powerful person in the room," Draco added. She looked at him, shell-shocked.

"But I don't want power. Power corrupts, it shouldn't be the focus of our talks. I just need to know how to phrase things well and make sure how not to be taken advantage of-" Hermione began.

"That is stupid," Draco said harshly.

"Draco! It is not _stupid_, it is _naive_," Blaise snapped back. "Educate Hermione, do not belittle her."

"Thank you Blaise," Hermione said as she glared at Draco.

"No, it's still stupid. Power, Granger, is not something to dismiss. You have your values, your causes, your visions. If you have no power, no influence, no voice, will any of those grand ideas ever come to fruition? If no one listens, you're as good as mute. If you have no influence, your projects will fail. If you have no power, you do not impact the world."

"I see what you mean Malfoy, but desiring power for the sake of power is something I greatly detest," Hermione countered. "In theory, you're completely right. In practice, every person who has ambitiously sought out power has consistently exploited other people, destroyed communities, and generally inflicted more harm than good. Look at Voldemort"

"I'm not disagreeing with you, but I think Draco is saying you should separate out the connotation that power must mean negative impact. If you think about the people who have had the most positive contributions to the world, philosophically, physically, or personally, they all had influence on other people in order to make those contributions happen," Blaise clarified.

"Not courageous enough to take on the great responsibility of power?" Draco took one last jab at Hermione's Gryffindor roots.

Hermione looked at him. "I'm human, Malfoy. I'm not infallible."

"As long as you maintain sight of that, you won't be corrupted," Draco smirked slightly.

Hermione looked at him for a long time. "And you?"

Draco's grey eyes hardened. "I think I learned how impressively imperfect I am while on the receiving end of the occasional _Crucio_."

The tone of the room instantly darkened, souring. Blaise looked on helplessly as Draco proceeded to stiffly excuse himself. Blaise found himself alone with Hermione, who was visibly shaken.

"So does being in Slytherin actually mean you get lessons like this in the common room?" Hermione attempted to lighten the mood.

"Not really, but when the power struggles and manipulations begin, you're either a quick learner, or you're… a Goyle. Or a Crabbe."

Hermione laughed softly, before sobering.

"With Malfoy, I didn't mean-" Hermione began, stuttering to a stop.

"I know you didn't, but you must understand..." Blaise trailed off.

"I do," Hermione said softly.

**AN: Hello, hello! Thank you all for following and favoriting me! Sorry for the long gap in updating, but I hope you enjoy the chapter! It's been tough for me to write recently, so I would hugely appreciate any feedback that you all have for me. I wish all of you the best and hope your summers have been going well. What do you think of Draco's thoughts on power versus Hermione's? How about Arnaldo? Let me know in a review!**


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